


In Stitches

by Quinhwyvar



Series: In Stitches [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Medical but not explicit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Seriously how do they all stay alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-08-19 05:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinhwyvar/pseuds/Quinhwyvar
Summary: She frowned. “Why is there a Captain America bandaid holding together a three and a half inch gash on your forehead?”“That’s what I always do.” Peter shrugged dismissively. “It works.”“Okay. We’re going to put some stitches there.”“But my healing is like way fast.” He scooted back on the seat. “Once a power line came right for my head and I couldn’t see right for a couple hours and then bam it was fixed.”Why did he have to say that?*The Avengers’ nurse always had her hands full but what happens when they fracture after Civil War? And who is this Peter Parker kid anyways?





	1. In Which We Meet Spider-Man

A very small knock sounded from the back of the white van.

Part of Catherine tried to drown her annoyance with her coffee at the sound of the noise. 2 am was never a good time for her pager to go off. The drink that came with the driver didn’t make the ride through Queens any better.

Another part of her was mystified by the fact that the kid was this gullible. “First aid for heroes in your backyard. Knock on the white van” was the text that Spider-Man had gotten from Happy.

“Excuse me…is there a secret password I need to know or is this the wrong van?” The voice was muffled through the metal.

She took one last drink of her coffee and set it on the table before popping open the back.

“Come on.” She sounded like she was calling a dog. The alley looked empty to her. “Let’s get you all patched up.”

The whole van shifted to the left and Catherine’s hand shot out for her cup. The travel mug slipped across the metal surface and she barely caught it. From the rough report that she heard, the kid probably needed help. Apparently he’d been on an airplane and then dropped out of the sky before crash landing on a nearby beach.

A head dropped down from the top of the van. “Oh wow. He wasn’t kidding about first aid. Here I thought this was a normal van - I mean, it looks normal from the outside.”

Right. The white exterior looked like it was the perfect vehicle to kidnap children. In fact it was a regular ambulance, packed with cabinets and supplies on every surface. She stood by the gurney. The only real difference between this one and a real ambulance was that they had swapped out one unit for a steel container for alien debris. If she knew that this was going to be her life some odd years ago, Catherine would have told herself to go back to drinking and LA.

“Do you want to drip out there or do you want me to fix it?”

Blood seeped from his head. Alarmingly, he didn’t seem to notice. The suit was homemade by the doctored sweater. Hadn’t Stark given him a real one at some point?

“It’s so clean smelling in here.” The mechanical eyes went wide and with some stiffness he rolled down and inside.

There was tenderness on his left foot. She gestured to the bed. After a second of gawking, he sat and started swinging his legs awkwardly. They didn’t touch the ground.

Young. He was tiny compared to the others that had sat on the bed. The white eyes kept refocusing as he scanned the room. There was a clicking sound as his heels kept touching the metal leg under him.

“First thing. Take off the mask.”

He shook his hands. “Oh no ma’am. Enough unveiling for one day.”

She picked up the tablet although she already knew information inside it. “The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Peter Parker.”

“Seriously?” He shouted and yanked off the mask. His hair stuck up comically.

She was shocked by his age. She knew that the kid was…well…a kid but there is a difference between a typed number on a sheet and this baby in front of her. This feeling turned into angry and shock. His face was beaten, bruising blooming around the left side of his face, blood drying out of his nose and a cut that cried for her attention on the opposite side.

“It’s my job to know and you have no business dropping off of a plane.”

His eyes were red as he switched his focus to her. “I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time. One thing just lead to another and Mr. Stark’s plane was going to hit a bunch of people-”

“You keep talking, I’m going to take some vitals, okay?”

He didn’t miss a beat as she rolled up his sweater and slipped the cuff onto his moving arm. “Yeah, sure, but I had to turn the plane but I wasn’t really thinking too hard about the landing part because Liz’s dad was after me and it-”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Still, deep breaths.”

By some miracle, he did freeze. When she began practicing medicine, this almost felt like magic how they stopped moving for her. His chest rose and fell slowly as he blankly stared at the far wall. It felt like she was back in the ER with a little kid next to her. They were always the stillest, every muscle trying to keep itself from twitching.The cuff hissed.

Slightly low blood pressure. Not as much as it should be.

“Do you have any allergies that I should know about?” That shook him out of the trance.

“Allergies? Not really. My Aunt May says she’s allergic to gluten but she eats it all the time.” His eyes flicked back outside. He had closed the door once he was in but something called his attention. The kid was so full of energy even at this hour.

She gave him a quick once over, noting temperature along other things. His heart nearly blew her eardrum out. If it wasn’t for his current trauma, the kid was one of the healthiest she had seen in a while.

Somebody was eating their veggies.

She frowned. “Why is there a Captain America bandaid trying to hold together a three and a half inch gash on your forehead?”

“That’s what I always do.” He shrugged dismissively. “It works.”

“Okay. We’re going to put some stitches there.”

“But my healing is like way fast.” He scooted back on the seat. “Once a power line came right for my head and I couldn’t see right for a couple hours and then bam it was fixed.”

Why did he have to say that? She reached for the suture kits and started prepping the anesthetic.

“I’m really okay.” The butt scooting was continuing. Captain America was holding on by one side now. He fell forward as his back rammed into the cabinet behind him. The heart monitor rattled and he contorted himself to grab it. It wouldn’t have fallen but the movement was enough to prove her point.

The bandaid fluttered to the ground. It landed on the floor, red and wet in the light. Peter looked at it and then guiltily back up at her.

Part of her mouth jerked up but she pushed it back. While the other Avengers were usual somber, Spider-Man felt like comic relief. The wound needed attention, otherwise it could scar or worse. The fact that he had been on a beach meant that it probably needed the sand cleaned out of it. His eyes were wide with worry at the long hooked needle.

A stuffed animal was still tucked on the shelf within reach.

“Hold this.” She pushed the blue rabbit into his hands. “Look at the smiley face sticker.”

He frowned at the toy but it stayed in his hands. That bunny had some endearing quality to it with one side of the stitching of the mouth lopsided.

“Where’s the smiley face?” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the opposite wall. She leaned to look at the wound. It was a laceration, thankfully by something probably metallic and sharp. She shown a light in it, the lines clean and crisp. It had happened recently. His fingers dug into the fur.

“The sticker is there…I’m just going to wipe it off, give you a little local anesthetic, clean and stitch it.” She checked that she was ready and swabbed it. “Keep looking for it.”

He jerked but kept searching. “I don’t see it. Where is it?”

“It’s about two inches. Bright yellow.” The words were automatic as she worked on the cut. “It’s winking at you. The left edge is torn from the EKG machine.”

A pause. She waited a minute for the anesthetic to take effect then flushed the wound.

“Any hints Ms…?” His head moved and she stopped him. She worked quickly. Kids or adults, it didn’t matter, the sooner it was over, the better.

“Catherine.”

His shoulders were relaxed and his grip loosened on the poor bunny. “Oh. No last names? Okay. Well, I don’t see it Ms. Catherine.”

“Humm…then you must be terrible at your job Spider-Man. Stark saw found it.”

That worked. The kid screwed up his face and studied the wall hard. Now he was determined and she saw him start to scan the wall methodically. They broke into silence and then she snipped off the final stitch. The line of stitching wasn’t bad for a squirming patient. Certainly not Instagram worthy but she was sure it was going to be fine.

“All done.” It almost was singsongly in a classic nurse style. God. Sometimes she hated herself.

He perked up. “That didn’t hurt too much.”

“You did better than Thor.”

“You’ve put stitches in Thor?”

Now she couldn’t escape the grin on that one. “Yes. Here, we’ll make it even better.”

She looked in her basic first aid kit and found another Captain America bandaid. There were there for five year olds but she carefully put it across the stitches.

“You are funny Ms. Catherine.” Captain America grinned back at her, giving her a thumbs up.

The bunny went back on the shelf. The corner of the ear was still smudged with ash from Thor. She should really clean the poor animal some time. It’ll be a biohazard soon.

The rest of him was an easier job of “poke and ask”. Something very unmedical that she had to come up with on the fly since the Avengers and well, everything else that came with it.

“Tell me if this hurts. We’re looking for sharp pain.” She touched the bruise on his face gently. He blinked but then shook his head.

“A little but not bad.”

Right. Superhero’s most alarming wounds got her attention, the rest of them tended to be surface only. It was the large and bleeding things that she worked on. Sometimes it made it easier than her more human patients. They also were less concerned about injuries. Natasha came to her once with several bullet grazes and sat down looking confused at why Catherine had insisted on seeing her.

His left foot and knee gave the same minimal reaction. Fair enough.

The examination continued that way until she was satisfied that most everything was going to heal normally.

She sighed and took a drink of coffee. “Anything else that you need me to look at?”

It was almost 4. She should probably stop with the caffeine before her Monday was supposed to start. It wasn’t Sunday any longer, she mused, that had ended a bit ago.

The kid looked at all the dirt and smoke all over him. His fingers hovered over his arms. The kicked puppy dog look on his face resumed. He better quit that or else she was going to regret not restocking the ambulance with lollipops.

“I know you probably don’t know but do you know what Mr. Stark thinks about tonight?” The question was quiet. The stitches wrinkled on his face. Captain America almost popped off. The van hummed. She sat down on the chair opposite him, holding the cup between her knees.

“Peter.” The name felt like it might be a more personal. “I have no idea.”

He deserved the truth. The level between her and Mr. Bloated Ego was a mountain and half. He dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded into his chest. Misery colored his cheeks. Something twisted in her stomach. Shit. She took another drink and then set the coffee on the fold out table.

“He wouldn’t have sent me if he wasn’t pleased.” It wasn’t a lie. It was an assumption. It was technically Happy that had organized the whole thing.

The effect was immediately. The kid with the bruised face and stitches brightened like it was Christmas. “I guess that makes sense.”

He hopped off the gurney and came at her. Catherine braced for the hug, probably a very strong one that would make her vertebrae creak. Her hands balled up.

“Thanks Ms. Catherine.”

He offered his hand.

This was the strangest kid.

She peeled off her gloves and took it. The grip was strong but not bone cracking. He smiled at her and then disappeared out the door.

“Keep up on your shots or I’ll have to find you again.” She shouted at the closing door.

“Yes ma’am.”

She sat in the empty van. It felt empty now like all the life had been sucked out of it.

“You better do right by that kid,” She said to the front where there was a closed window between the back and the driver. It slid open and Happy’s face peeked through.

“Oh don’t worry. You’ll probably be seeing him again.”

She sat back down and gave him a hard look. “What are you doing here? Where is Ralph?”

“You aren’t the only one that wants to know if the kid is okay.”

“Just take me back home.” She rolled her eyes and pulled on her seatbelt. There were better ways to do that then hiding in the front seat and listening through the window.

The van started up. “I’ve heard that there might be a fight soon in Chicago. Make sure that you have your overnight bag packed.”

“Thrilling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea and it wouldn't let me go! A couple quick notes before we continue:  
I've had to tone down super healing a little for this story to work. They are still superheroes but something has to give.  
I'm trying to work within the timeline as much as possible but things may get a little stretched here and there.  
Finally I have no background in medicine so forgive any mistakes.
> 
> What did you think? Should I continue? Drop me a kudos and comment if you think so! Thank you for reading. - Quin


	2. In Which Duties Change But Remain the Same

Catherine’s headache only increased as she started in on the paperwork from last night. Some people thought that medicine was just a diagnosis and a couple shots. That was a cute idea. It was much worse than that.

Everything had to be documented for her own future reference and the household on-call surgeon, Stephanie.

Thankfully she already had the medical forms from Peter’s school and yearly doctor visits. She wasn’t surprised when those checkups stopped two years ago. That must have been when he got bit or stung or whatever. The new medical folder looked odd on her screen. It was tucked in between the twins and Natasha. The Avengers, well what was left of them, hadn’t grown for a while.

“Knock knock Catherine.” The door opened and she could see the reflection of Andy settling against the door frame.

She snapped the screen shut. “Can’t you read signs?”

He leaned back and popped off the sticky note. “Oh yeah, look at that. Do Not Disturb. Oops.”

He had chosen to wear his I am Iron Man shirt and looked absolutely bored out of his mind. He should be grown enough to figure out how to amuse himself. He settled back against the frame and studied the room. It was still the same, bare except for the typical office supplies and her own fridge.

“I know that you’ve got superhero clearance but you don’t have to rub it in.” He played with the pincushion on his wrist. There must be no suits to work on. Well, he had been doing something, she corrected herself. Muscles flexed on his arms again. She hadn’t seen that for a long time.

“I was out late with a new patient. I’ve got to work on the file.”

“Spider-Man?” His eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

There was no harm in admitting that. The facts were easy to put together. Usually something exploded and she was called onto the scene and then came into work with her “grumpy face” as he liked to call it. Stark’s eyes on his shirt stared back at her with a look that should have been stoic but appeared constipated with the wrinkling.

Her cell phone rung on the desk, the default sound that sounded more hollow than substantial.

The caller ID stated Unknown. It wouldn’t be Nick Fury. He had the office number. Andy was right in front of her although she’d never gotten around to deleting his number in her contacts.

“I thought you swore off your phone after your purge of Instagram and hopes of fame.” He walked over and leaned towards the screen. She paused and waved a hand at him.

“Did you ever get a following?”

The glare she gave him would have killed him had it been just a little stronger. The phone slid into her fingers as she took the call on speaker.

“Catherine? Are you there?” They stilled. The voice was familiar to her. The voice was familiar to him. “We’re in the area and I need to call in a favor.”

“Okay.” She felt herself sliding back into the coldness that she took with her to a medical situation. They looked at each other. Someone groaned in the background. “What do you need?”

“A full kit, anything you’ve got for a concussion and Andy for the suits. I’ll text you our location. Hurry.”

Black Window hung up the phone and Catherine sucked in her breath. The paperwork was going to have to wait.

*

Part of her should be worried about being caught she mused as she guided one of the work cars down into the guts of Brooklyn. Technically, she was aiding the wrong side now that the whole “civil war” thing went down. Her thumb tapped against the wheel as they neared the building.

“I’m hoping for bullet holes,” Andy said. A taxi hissed by them. “Those are easy.”

She shook her head. “I’m hoping our friends haven’t been shot.”

“You know what I mean.” Annoyance was in that tone.”We really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” Her thumb tapped quicker against the steering wheel.

“It’s exciting.” He leaned over towards her.

“In your own seat please.” She yanked the car into a parking spot a little harder than she needed to and he popped back into a healthy distance between them.

The building didn’t look like much. It was an apartment complex, brick front with pity porches that were barely more than a four foot by three foot space. A couple housed dead plants. Natasha had give her the front door code and she punched it in. The keypad chirped in response and the lock yanked itself open.

A mom and her daughter were looking at them across the street. Two strangers walking into a building with large duffel bags. Her bag could probably fit that five year old in it without any trouble. She tried to smile at the mom but she didn’t take the bait. Catherine held the door open for Andy. The lady was still standing. She probably thought that they were a couple.

Unfortunately, maturity level wasn’t a physical trait.

The inside of the apartment wasn’t promising. Two floors up she decided the stairway hadn’t been cleaned since construction. The dead leaves, mud and scraps of trash had built up. She knocked twice on 5A.

Andy tapped his foot on the ground. It was still true. It built a knot in her throat. They shouldn’t be here. Go ahead Stark, she threw it at the ceiling, find us and tell us to stop.

The door opened. The shock of blonde almost made her think that she had gotten the wrong apartment. No, under that new hair was Natasha. The gun in her hand fell and she stepped back into the apartment.

“Thanks for coming.” She was hoarse and they walked inside the cool apartment. It was dark but she could see the beginnings of a home base for them. A computer was wired to the wall in a corner and the couch had be dragged next to a table to make a substitute chair for their dining room table.

Catherine focused. She had a job to do now. Natasha didn’t look to be in the best shape. She was pale, her lips were cracked and part of her hair was matted in the back. That’s probably where the request of concussion medicine was coming from.

What worried her was the lack of her friend, Steve Rogers.

Andy had gone silent and brushed past them. He probably had spotted the rumbled suits on the table.

Natasha combed back the strange new hair and turned towards one of the doors. “Steve’s in here. We were tracking down a target. Things went south. He took a drop from a building onto a closed dumpster. I think there was a couch or something inside. His shoulder is dislocated bad enough that we can’t get it back in ourselves.”

“Right.” The bedroom wasn’t as dark as the living room but it was still barely a bedroom. Captain America was sprawled across the bed and already she could see why they couldn’t get it in. With the strong muscles that ripped across his chest, the bone and joint were pulled tight against the rest of his body.

“Hey Doc…” Steve’s face was shiny with sweat but he still managed a half smile as he lifted his head. It wasn’t the wide grin that she had seen time and time again in his glamor shots.

Catherine put the bag at the side of the bed and sat down next to him. The shifting of the mattress caused a spasm and he clutched the bad shoulder.

“I’m still not a doctor and you,” she said and tapped his forehead, “need to start looking before you jump.”

That got a thin laugh out of him. Her fingers hovered over the undershirt. It would probably take both of them to get it to snap back in. He took a deep breath and released his shoulder. She brushed over the oddness of the joint. It was bad but not impossible with a little motivation.

“Hey, I patched up a fan of yours yesterday. He wanted a Captain American bandaid.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked weakly but all the interest was gone. Not a good sign, he must be in a lot of pain.

He was dehydrated. This wasn’t a problem for them. They were always healthy to the envy of all the plebeians of the world. They were being driven or doing the driving.

She wanted to ask so many questions about these two people that she knew. Where they had been since prison, since everything else, but Natasha hovered nearby. Her eyes kept darting between them. Her hand was still near her gun. Part of Catherine wanted to snap at her. For years she had taken care of them.

“Okay. Here is what we are going to do,” Catherine was matter-a-fact. “We’re going to treat that shoulder, then I want to get blood from both of you to check that physically you are alright otherwise. After that, you’ll both need to either promise me that you are going to drink more fluids or I’ll be setting you up on an IV for a couple hours. Deal?”

“How are you going to run the tests?” Something was hard in her voice.

“At the lab.”

“Stark’s?”

She shrugged. “It’s the only one I’ve got. He doesn’t babysit my department and just because you got in a hissy fight, I was never directly told to stop helping you.”

It was a stretch. Stark’s frustration had worked down the ranks like wildfire. She’d had “the talk” with him several times since about drinking.

Natasha’s finger tapped her gun and her eyes went to the window. Catherine sat back on the bed.

“Unlike the man in the tin suit, I don’t abandon people so before you give me some bullshit about trust and loyalty, think about Steve. The less time we argue, the less time he has to be in pain. It’s up to you but you asked me and Andy here.”

Steve smiled quietly from the mattress. They often thought alike. Her time in the ER and his in the army seemed to make their viewpoint match. Get the work done. Do the best you can. Get eight hours of sleep. Well, maybe not for him with the deep pockets under his eyes.

She looked back at Natasha. Nothing had changed. How many times had she helped her? Over the years, there had been times when Catherine had spotted the problem before the assassin had. Surely that meant something.

“Fine.”

“Let’s get this joint back in place Cap.” She refocused. “Natasha, I’ll need your help.”

They worked for twenty minutes in silence as they forced the humerus back in place. She ended up numbing the joint to make it easier on the poor soldier. These things felt simple to her. She knew how to fix this: say the right words, apply pressure in the right area, and then allow the years of experience to take over. Super soldier or not, the body worked the same.

Eventually they moved back out to the living room, leaving Steve to fall asleep with the IV dripping next to him. She didn’t blame him for taking that option. She labeled the red tubes with the date and his last name before slipping them into a biohazard bag and into her kit. Natasha’s were next to his.

Andy had been working at the table with his earbuds in. Somehow he had found a floor lamp to turn on making the space brighter. The suits looked bad but the man was talented. He was seaming in the new fabric carefully along the edges of the outfit. The bullet proof front of Captain America’s suit was spread across the table. The little sewing machine was humming adamantly as it chewed through the thickened fabric. Stark’s logo lit up blue from over his shoulder.

“If we were at a hospital, I would order a CAT scan for this bang.” Catherine addressed the swollen skin on Natasha’s head.

“Well, we aren’t there.” She twitched under her attention as Catherine gently touched the angry spot. There was certainly some swelling.

She hummed in response and then switched topics. “What happened to that little kitten of yours? It isn’t here.”

When things looked like they were going to be stable, a pipe dream now, Natasha had gotten a cute little brown, black and white thing. To her knowledge, it hadn’t actually lived with her but with someone else. Those details were vague. Everything was vague when it came to Black Widow.

A flicker of a smile came across her face. “Artem is growing. I got a video of him yesterday.”

“Can I see?” There was certainly trauma on her head but the skull underneath appeared undamaged. The headache must be incredible.

Natasha pulled out a battered phone. A cat jumped from one chair to another. The wrinkles and stress on Natasha’s face melted. It was little things like this that told her that this was real. It wasn’t another lie. Sometimes she did that, told her one thing when the scars on her body told another. Catherine never corrected her.

The video looped over and then she caught herself, locking the phone instantly. “Are you done here?”

The soldier was back.

“I’ll give you some medicine for nausea.” She pulled a small bag of pills. “Take them with food. I’d tell you to rest a couple days but I know that you’ll be gone tomorrow.”

She took the bag. “In eight hours if we are lucky.”

“Which means six.” Catherine adjusted some of the supplies in her bag. “Don’t push Steve too much. Everybody needs rest, super soldier or not.”

“We do what we need.”

She crossed her arms with the bag tucked underneath one. Her gaze was challenging, a hard line in the sand. Catherine zipped the duffel and got up. Andy had finished a bit ago.

“Where were you this afternoon, Fernando?” Natasha’s tone changed, casual, a safe topic. She had never used his nickname and Catherine was sure that Andy hated it. Only his family called him that and he’d been trying to convince them otherwise for years.

He looked up from packing the sewing machine. “No ‘Thank you’? You blew a whole seam on the thigh of your suit. It took a miracle and spandex to get that back in shape.”

The response he got was silence.

He waved a hand. “I was drinking margaritas with Catherine and blowing off work.”

Catherine pulled the bag onto her shoulder. “We went out on a job. Andy needed some fabric and I needed a break. We stopped for Starbucks on the way back. It’s that easy.”

“Alright.” Black Widow slouched against the couch. “I’ll call you in a day or two about the blood results.”

Her eyes were exhausted as they trained on her. There were beaches and resorts out there that nobody would fine them. Hell, a cabin in the woods would do the same job. The words caught up in Catherine’s throat, knotting and curling against each other. Andy waited by the door. She forced them down. Natasha switched her focus to Andy.

“Hey, nice shirt by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Catherine shoved down a laugh. Andy had somehow had time to switch out his shirt. Captain America’s face grinned clownishly back at her.

They were playing both sides. It was dangerous. Fear got her in bed sometimes but it was nothing compared to what she was accomplishing. They were able to help the world, as long as Stark didn’t find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more serious of a chapter but still a lot of fun. Let me know what you think in a comment or kudos. It really helps me write and edit this quicker.  
See you next week! -Quin


	3. In Which Tony "Drops By"

It was flu season. 

When Catherine had taken this job, she never thought that she would have to deal with something as mundane as “flu season”. The phrase now struck a cord in her deeper than Stark’s personal office number popping up on her desk phone. 

It meant prepping two hundred of doses of shots. It meant scheduling the hundred people that worked in Stark Enterprise’s remote base in the city to come in and then traveling to the Stark base to do another hundred people. Finally, it meant tracking down the rich billionaire himself who told her annually “I don’t do injections unless I have to. Now shoo.”

The office had been quiet after their little adventure yesterday. Andy had kept his mouth shut. Somehow the Avengers always left it up to her to do that. They assumed that she would take care of him. Also it helped her that Andy had taken the day off to take care of his mother, leaving the whole office quiet.

The analyzer was running behind her as she checked the list of staff, making sure she had ordered the right number of doses. Romanoff’s blood wasn’t going to make the machine hyperventilate so she could multitask. Roger’s blood was another story. That was going to have to be done manually. His blood had broken the machine the first time she had tried to run Captain America through.

Good times.

“Knock knock.” 

She knew that voice. Why in the hell was he here?

Pressing her hands against the cold surface of the table, she looked up. Stark was already in the room clicking a pen in his hand and surveying over over her. He was so intensely smug that he looked like he was about to sneeze.

Tony Stark was here. He was never here. Her gut curled in on itself. This was not a good sign. She needed him to not be dropping in for surprise visits especially while she ran his enemies’ blood through her machines.

“How goes it in the…medical department?” He looked misplaced in her office as if he belonged in another world. His finger drew onto the paper that she had been looking at and spun it around.

If she hadn’t been so concerned about the blood test running behind her, Catherine would have been pissed. He just wandered in here, interrupting what could have been important work. 

“Preparing for the flu season. Do you want to get your test done now?” Strain was on his face. She knew that he had been on vacation but had done nothing for his stress. He’d lost a couple pounds too. She was going to have the “Food Is Good For You” lecture with him again. 

“You know the answer to that one Doc.” He put on his stupid glasses and matched her stare.

Her heart was working hard but she ignored it. She had been through much worse than Tony Stark. The worse he could do was fire her, right?

“I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse practitioner.” She pulled the paper back from his fingers. She couldn’t hear the rest of the office. Tony had closed the door behind him.

He snapped the glass off and shook them at her. “Yet it was you that was there that day in New York, pleasantly delivering me back from my little mishap.”

Little mishap. Let’s try dropping thousands of feet in a outdated suit after entering the vacuum of space in a black hole for a couple minutes. She had been nearby as the heroes had realized the actual danger the man had been in. She’d been in such a blind panic that day she’d barely noticed a giant hulking green man.

That had been her interview.

“Have you changed the emergency procedures?”

He laughed, a short fake sound. “No. I don’t want you bashing at the joints of the suit with a rock again.”

Well, excuse her for saving his life.

“Can I help you with something today, Tony?”

He circled the table and towards her. The analyzer was getting closer and closer to him. It would only take one look at the screen and the little game would be up. She should have put another name in the machine but she couldn’t create new names in the database. That was HR’s little insistence.

“If you hear from Steve, you will tell me.” He stuck his pen out at her. Accusation was there.

“Yeah.” She should check her heart rate. She was too healthy to be having a heart attack.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “After everything that happened, I don’t want any of my staff associating with him. I’ll hunt those criminals down and punish them myself after what he did.”

Oh. 

That changed things. A rejection letter was one thing. Iron Man was another.

The air was tense. She didn’t move. Part of her wanted to give up the ghost now but then Steve’s pale and relieved face came back to her.

“Anyways.” He pushed off the table swinging the topic wildly. “How’s your kids?”

“I don’t have children.” It came out of her emptily. Her mind still replaying the other words over and over again. He only meant one thing.

He waved his hands at her. “Your metaphorical kids, the people I pay you to take care of. Can anybody take any leaps in logic today?”

She held her tongue against the angry words that came up in her throat. Her coffee had been abandoned a little while ago on the counter. She grasped it and tightened her grip on the handle. Every morning is a Monday curled across the front, a white elephant gift from last Christmas.

“It’s been slow. The most exciting thing I’ve done lately is treated Nicole’s sprained ankle…again.”

“How is Peter?”

“Spider-Man?” She asked watching the vein bulge in his throat. “He’s good. I sent you the write-up, didn’t I?”

The longer the conversation was away from Cap, the more in control she was feeling. She had the information. He did not. She took those wild feelings and put them in a box and then buried it. She needed to pay attention now.

Her tablet was still on the table, waiting for Natasha’s results. She exited out of the waiting document and pulled back up the formal report. The black and white text stated plainly how she had put in ten stitches and then he disappeared off into the night. 

“Here it is again.” She slid it on the table to him. 

“No. I read that dry piece of paper. That’s not why I’m here. I meant how is Peter?” The emphasis on “is” was strange. He was asking something else but it wasn’t coming out right. The questions from the billionaire were usually easy: How much can I drink without being drunk? Can I really go on four hours sleep every night? Does chocolate scientifically work for cooling down Pepper’s PMS? Does this eye twitch mean I’m secretly getting MS?

She frowned. “He was a little boyscout unlike some whiners I know.”

He paused, thinking about her words, then shook his head. “That’s irrelevant. How is the kid doing? Was he okay?”

Peter’s tired eyes reappeared in her head. The way that he had smiled in the end when he realized that Stark had sent her. The analyzer continued to work behind her. 

“He’s really a kid, you know that right? Before you tangle him up in the Avengers, saving the world and all that bullshit, have you thought about that?” She stood up. The analyzer was getting close to done. “Look, my coffee is cold. Do you mind if we move into my office?”

“Right.” That had an impact on him. If she hadn’t been training herself to see his cues so she could treat him better, then it would have just looked like a momentary distraction. Instead his knuckles went white around the pen as he looked away, studying the far wall, dangerously close to the working machine.

She moved quickly. So quickly that she bumped into the table causing everything to rattle. He snapped back to the sound and returned mentally into the room with her.

“Sorry. I’m klutzy today. Come on.”

He loosened his grip on the pen. “Never mind that. I want you to do a physical on Parker. You’re right. He’s a growing boy and surely the injection of genetic arachnophiles means…something to him. Send me the report. I want everything. I mean everything. I’m taking care of him now. That’s normal to want to know everything, right?”

She hung up on the beginning of Stark’s words.“I’m right about something?”

“You better make sure you don’t make that ratio go up any higher Cathy. I know you don’t want to become like me.” He pointed the pen at her. “I want it done by the end of the week.”

He winked, clicked his tongue and swayed out of the room. 

The room was silent. She slipped her coffee. Her mind threw back his words unhelpfully. Criminals. She was a criminal now. Her gut felt like iron. Cheers. She took another drink and slammed the cup on the desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this a bit early after all the Marvel vs Disney stuff blew up. I'm pretty annoyed at all of it. Why ruin such a good thing?
> 
> Anywho, what do you think of this chapter? I find Tony and Catherine such an interesting (platonic) dynamic. Drop me a comment and guess what you think is going to happen during Peter's physical. I'll guarantee some tomfoolery. ;)
> 
> The kudos and comments really help me write and edit this faster so please keep them coming. Thank you for the support! - Quin


	4. In Which We Get A Physical

The store was packed as Catherine browsed down the aisle on a Saturday afternoon. Once a week, she allowed herself the luxury of a seven dollar Starbucks drink and the time to relax. No heroes. No egos. No hoverers. Just her and her thoughts. It felt good.

As usual, Michaels smelled like the plastic pushing store it was. She roamed down the aisle, looking at the canvases for the hell of it. It had be years since she needed anything large.

A movement caught her eye and her jaw almost dropped. Peter was standing at the other end, quietly waving his hand at her, the grin almost breaking his face. It was strange to see him without his suit. He looked so normal in a baggy t-shirt and converse. The woman with him was chattering to his deaf ears about the smaller canvases.

They weren’t in the right environment. This wasn’t the ambulance, the lab or her office. It was exposing, work didn’t invade personal life. Here, she was just Catherine.

She waved back and shook her head to keep his distance. He looked surprised and then rapidly pointed to himself and mimicked the eye pieces of his mask. Jesus Christ. She had to leave the store. This was her day off. The lady next to him put a hand on his shoulder and then cut off as she noticed the waving.

“Oh. Do you know her?” The woman smiled like Peter, full and genuine. Catherine pulled the drink closer to her chest.

Peter’s eyes grew and he looked between them quickly. “Yeah. She’s-she was from my Stark Internship.”

Stark Internship? Is that the code word for being a superhero now? Catherine started to turn but the woman was rapidly approaching and her hand came out. She was trapped.

“I’m Catherine.” They shook and Peter rammed his hands into his pockets. The stitches were gone already from his face and the scar was barely there. It was some form of super healing. She would have to ask him later.

“I’m Aunt May.” She caught herself. “His aunt. I’m just May for you.”

Peter was making a face at her. Was he going to be ill?

“Nice to meet you.”

She wrapped Peter in a side hug. “I was so sorry to hear that Peter doesn’t work for you all anymore.”

He was stiff like he had died a couple hours ago.

Catherine nodded, not sure what to say. They were scheduled to meet tomorrow for Stark’s requested physical. Aunt May clearly wasn’t in the know. 

“What do you do at Stark Industries?”

This lie was easy, practiced over Thanksgiving dinners and dates that she would rather forget. “I’m the on call nurse for the tech division. When you work with jet engines and weapons, sometimes it’s best to have someone on staff to stitch up the people who blow things up.”

The joke was dry but it always made them laugh. May’s laugh was higher pitched as she squeezed Peter tighter. Spider-Man’s cheek continually faded in color. 

“Peter always told me he was in the safe parts of the building. That his clearance wasn’t high enough for anything dangerous. So, how do you two know each other then?”

“Dinner!” He interjected. “We eat dinner together sometimes.”

The kid couldn’t take it much longer. That was clear. 

“What are you doing here?” Catherine asked.

Aunt May let the kid pull away. “Peter’s art class is doing self portraits next week. We need to give the little artist something to paint on.”

“I’m not little.”

“Fine, the aspiring artist needs a canvas.”

“I’m not aspiring either. It’s just for class.”

May mocked shock. “I’m sorry Petey. It’s just for class. That’s what I meant the first time.”

Catherine’s chest hurt as she kept the laughter to herself. This was the kid that crashed landed on a beach and supposedly fought off someone dressed in a bird mech outfit. Now he was blushing at how he was going to paint a self portrait.

Aunt May felt the similarity by the gleam in her eyes. “What brings you here on such a wonderful afternoon?”

“Paint.” She held up her shopping basket and faked seeing the time on her watch. “I’ve got to go. It was nice to see you Peter and best of luck now that you don’t have that internship.”

“Thanks, Ms. Catherine.”

Then she turned and walked, the smile burning across her face. 

*

“You were so cool!” Spider-Man popped into her exam room, breaking all semblance of silence. The Stark building wasn’t empty on a Sunday, there were too many overachievers in the building for that, but it was blissfully close. Now he came in breaking the sound barrier.

She raised an eyebrow. “I was?”

“You were so smooth at not mentioning that I was Spider-Man.” He hopped, literally, onto the examination bed. The baggy sweatshirt suit was still burned through in a couple places. It was odd to see, Andy kept all the suits impeccable but of course he didn’t have access to this one.

“It’s in my job description. I’ve been keeping secrets for years now.” She closed the door. “Okay, mask off.”

“Is there cameras in here?” He squinted around.

“No.”

He pulled off the mask. His hair went everywhere. His hand came up to fix it automatically.

“Let’s make this as quick as possible and then we can both go home to our respective couches on this Sunday afternoon. Sound about right?”

“I won’t be on the couch. I have physics to do.”

Homework. Spider-Man was worried about his homework. 

“You know.” He started to swing his legs again and peered around the room. “I’m supposed to meet Mr. Stark on Thursday upstate. Do you know what that is about?”

“No idea.” She pulled out her otoscope. “Are you comfortable? I’m going to do most of the physical and then my friend Andy is going to come here and take your measurements.

“Yeah. This is fine. Measurements?” He brightened. “Is he a nurse too?”

“No.” She adjusted his head and peered inside his ear. “He’s the Avenger’s tailor. For him, you should wear your mask since you seem concerned about your identity.”

He pulled away to look at her. “He can’t be trusted? Is he a spy?”

“No. He’s fine but the fewer people who know the better.” She put his head back to look at the wall. “He doesn’t need to know to make a suit.”

“But you do?”

She let go of his head and pointed the tool at the chest. “That’s the different. I need to know who you are so I don’t accidentally kill you by giving you 300 milligrams of penicillin.”

“You found out about that, huh?” He seemed suddenly very interested in the seaming underneath him.

She went to the other side. “I find out everything with Stark’s help.”

He went silent. 

“Anything else that you want me to know about or look at while we are here? Pains? Pulled muscles? Stomach problems?” She asked. Something about him threw her off. She should have asked that in the beginning.

“Yes.” He rubbed his hands together. “Do I need to pay you for this? I didn’t think about it and I don’t have any cash on me or credit cards or an insurance card or any real form of identification really.”

“Well damn.” She sat back. “I guess then we’re done then.”

Shock rippled over his face followed by another wave of embarrassment. The motormouth started up. “I didn’t know Ms. Catherine. I really didn’t. I would have brought something if I knew. Aunt May baked these really good cookies on Friday and I could have brought you some of those or maybe the twenty I have under my bed. Oh god I’m an idiot. Would that be enough?”

The kid was trying to pay in baked goods. Hundreds of dollars in medical care for chocolate chip cookies.

“I’m kidding Peter. Stark pays my salary.”

The words clicked in his mind. That would make the most amount of sense, right kid? He doubled over laughing suddenly. She started chuckling despite the fact that the act of laughing at your own joke was despicable. 

“Oh man. You really had me there for a moment.” He hiccuped out. “I thought that I was going to be in big trouble and then I was going to have to take you with me to an ATM or something.” 

Her examination tools were glaring at her. Here she called herself a professional. She pulled herself back together, straightening and taking a breath.

“Okay, let’s keep going here. Let me see that other ear,” she said and he stilled again under her hands. “You know, you could bring me those cookies next time anyways.”

“I can try.”

“Good.” She grasped for her pen light. “How are you with bright lights? It’s time to test those eyes.”

He squinted at the black pen. “Not really a fan of them if I’m honest ma’am.”

It made sense. He seemed to be fine in darkness from her report. There was a reason that his goggles supposedly narrowed his field of vision. That was what made her ask the question to begin with.

“Anything about your eyes that you want to tell me, Peter?”

He continued to squint like she was about to flash light in his face, one eye almost all the way closed already. “I’m sensitive to light?”

“Alright then. Let’s say you’ve passed for now.” He cracked a smile and relaxed again. “You’ll let me know if anything changes right?”

“How do I do that?”

“Tell Happy.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

They went on methodically through the exam. He cleared every test by well over a hundred feet. He was healthy and young. It was strange to see someone who hadn’t seen as much action as her other patients. The scars were minimal and small. Some of the other Avengers looked like Pollock paintings if they allowed you to have a close enough look. 

Stark’s chest after all his medical work looked incredible to her and horrifying to everyone else. Over the years, the scar tissue had started to overlap and build up. Catherine had a feeling that it was only her and Pepper that knew how thick that skin was over his heart.

“Why were you really in that art store?” Peter asked as he pulled his mask back on. She went to the door to get Andy.

She sighed and leaned against the handle. “You’ve asked a lot of questions Spider-Man, that’s the one that you want to waste air on?”

“Why not?” He shrugged and she opened the door to see Andy, thankfully, on the other side. The two men looked at each other for a moment.

“Andy, Spider-Man. Spider-Man, Andy.” She dragged the tailor inside and locked the door again. “Like I said, he takes care of all the suits.”

“Hi, Mr. Andy.” Peter’s voice was higher pitched than usual ruining the illusion immediately that he was a grown adult. Not that the illusion would have lasted very long anyways. Peter held out his hand but Andy stood there like he didn’t see it.

“Hey Spider-Man.” He sounded tired. Usually he was excited to meet someone new in the crew. The Sunday blues must have gotten to him. Peter placed his hands on his lap unconcerned. 

“Do you know why Ms. Catherine was at the art store yesterday?”

Catherine jerked forward almost shouting Peter’s real name at him. She stopped herself barely. Andy’s eyes connected with hers for a moment, all questions and no answers. He slowly pulled the measuring tape from where it was attached onto his clipboard. The 3-D scan of Peter had already been taken but Andy insisted on being old fashioned.

“Let’s get started and then I’ll tell you that. Stand up.”

She crossed her arms. “Andy…”

Peter was on his feet in a second and Andy came close before truly noticing the terrible shape of the suit. He stopped cold in his tracks. His hands came towards the burnt pieces and the obvious seams where Peter had sew it back together himself. Horror was on his face.

“It’s pretty nice, right? Not as good as Mr. Stark’s suit but this one I made all by myself.”

He looked Peter straight in the eyes and there was a choke in his voice. “You did a…good job.”

He couldn’t even say no to the kid. He started taking the measurements and writing down the numbers as quickly as he could. Probably the burnt fabric smell was getting to him.

“To answer your question, Catherine was at Michaels because at one point she thought she was going to be the next big thing in art.” 

“Andy,” she hissed. Her face was hot. She wanted to strangle that man and would have gotten close had it not been for the do-gooder in the in the room. 

“Really?” Oblivious to these intentions, Spider-Man stood up straighter. The measuring tape tightened around his thigh. “You wanted to be an artist?”

“It was a long time ago and many things have changed since then.” Her fingers crawled into her skin on either side of her chest as she wrapped them tighter.

“That’s like fantastic! Did you ever like show anything?”

“No.”

“Yeah, she did. She’s lying.” Andy corrected her. Anger was burning now and she wanted out of the room. Unfortunately, Peter was her responsibility until all of this was over and who knew what Andy would say if she left them alone.

“Can I see? What do you paint?” Peter stepped forward and almost tripped over the measuring tape on his ankle. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. She was trying to bring back…what did you call it?” Andy’s eyes glimmered. She realized that he was doing this for fun, to make her uncomfortable. “Symbolic still lives?”

“What’s that?” Peter asked the guy at his feet.

“And that’s why they didn’t take off,” she cut in before he could explain. She pushed forward off the wall. “It’s in the past now. I don’t paint much anymore, especially after I decided to go to school full time.”

“You must be doing a little if you needed paint this weekend.” Andy was being incredibly not helpful.

This was her lab and her patient. She shouldn’t feel like she was being pushed around like this. She waved her hands.

“Enough about me. Don’t you care how Captain America’s suit was made? Andy sewed it.”

Peter walked again and this time Andy was ready for it, just grabbing the clipboard in one hand and tightening the tape in the other around his biceps.

“That’s super cool too but I promise you, Ms. Catherine, I won’t leave until you text me some of your symbiotic life paintings.” He was almost begging. She stepped back towards the wall.

“No.”

“Oh she wants to.” Andy was grinning at her in that wild way that she had seen too many times. When he wanted all attention off of him, he methodically threw it on her. Damn him for knowing so much about her. She should have never opened up to him, martini in hand or not, ever. This was the result and her curse.

This went on for the rest of the measuring. Peter circled back to the topic over and over again like a dog on a bone. Catherine was going to put something in Andy’s coffee and watch the man slowly pass out for the rest of day. After that was done, she’d drag him to the middle of the Stark complex and leave him for security to find in his birthday suit. She’d leave it to him to explain that awkward situation.

In the end, the kid was true to his word. 

He attached himself to a freaking ceiling and stayed there idly spinning on a web upside down. She told him to get down before he passed out. He insisted that didn’t happen to him. She pushed, getting more and more concerned for the kid. 

Unfortunately for her, he turned out to be right, hanging on the ceiling for over forty-seven minutes. The medical part of her brain surmised unhelpfully that it was that strong heart and solid core that made it possible.

Andy had happily taken her office chair and was chatting with Spider-Man about anything and everything.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Peter said forty-eight minutes in. His head tracked with Andy’s until his body rotated too far and he whipped it around. Catherine’s teeth were starting to grind against each other.

Andy was being nonchalant about it. “She’ll be okay but the bills man. Insurance only covered so much.”

Spider-Man completed another rotation. His head snapped around.

“I give up,” Catherine snapped. She had to relent. The sun was setting. Her neck ached from looking up so much. She couldn’t handle the fact that her patient was hanging from her ceiling a second longer. Both men looked at her in surprise, one right side up and the other upside down.

“Give me the number.” 

So she texted pictures of two of her paintings to the number Peter gave and he waited until his phone binged before he dropped down, shook both their hands and left. The damn kid even said he had a good time.

When Spider-Man closed the door, she rounded on Andy with a fury. “I hope you step on a freaking LEGO from one of your sets tonight and get a stress fracture. Are you happy?”

“Yeah, that makes me a little happy.” Andy only smiled and followed Peter out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finishing up writing this story (don't worry, I'm eight chapters ahead) and Peter hanging from Catherine's ceiling is one of my favorite scenes. Also fun fact, this is one of the longest chapters for some reason!
> 
> Thank you to the anonymous comments which I can't respond to privately.
> 
> What do you think? I edit each chapter at least three times so I would love to get feedback on how you think it's going. I'm dying to know!
> 
> Thanks for reading as always - Quin


	5. In Which There Is An All Nighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quin here. I usually don't do warnings but I felt like I needed to this time. While nothing is explicit or extremely gruesome, Catherine earns her keep today. Just giving you a heads up.

  


“’How do you feel about Chicago?’ he said,” Catherine muttered to herself as the fortified truck bumped over another pothole, “’Did you ever pack that overnight bag?’ he said.”

Her hands pulled at each other as they came closer to where Iron Man and whoever he had roped in were battling. She had been in her bed at 4 am but now they were rushing towards a fight in Chicago three hours later. Even Happy’s voice didn’t sound pleased about this as he called her. The truck only held a few members of Stark’s team, herself, a couple technicians and Andy whom she hadn’t spoken to after his little “party” a couple nights ago. 

The explosions were getting closer. This wasn’t a surprise.

She took a deep breath. It was just like a night in the ER. The patients were unknown, their afflictions a mystery and what resources she had were limited. The only difference was that she was going to an active war zone, the patients were superheros, buildings were on fire and, well, it wasn’t really that much alike after all.

The truck rattled to a stop. Andy was looking at the door, his hands drawn tight on his bag. They wouldn’t let him out until it was safe.

“Catherine.” The door popped open, the smell of smoke and oil poured in. “Get out. It’s not looking good.”

She didn’t get that kind of luxury. 

The Stark and Chicago security got her on her way quickly, ushering her in the back of a Jeep. She took the emergency bag, leaving the rest of the medical supplies to follow more slowly. They barreled forward, the wind pulling hard on her hair. They were somewhere in Chicago but it wasn’t the vacation destination anymore.

The street was scattered with chunks of safety glass. Fire crept up on buildings unattended. The worse parts were the sounds. The fire crackled. Constant sirens waned against each other. Rubble was still falling in thick clumps on the ground. Someone was sobbing.

The smoke stung in the back of her throat.

The Jeep turned a corner and she saw them. Vision, Black Panther and Iron Man clustered around a fountain in a city center. Vision hovered nearby, scanning the horizon. But what got her attention was the tin suit sprawled on the ground, barely moving. Police formed a rough perimeter but kept their distance under the Vision’s gaze. She pulled her bag closer and didn’t bother to wait until Jeep had fully stopped. She hit the street at a run.

Something happened to her in situations like this. Emotion detached itself from her and floated away from her mind, leaving only the cold logical thoughts. Tony Stark was on the ground and wasn’t moving. That’s what she knew.

“Get out of my way.” She yelled. Her nose was picking up blood. The soldiers let her through the informal circle. Black Panther was more wary, leaning further over Stark, his hands clamped around a rod. A rod that was coming directly out of the suit.

Shit.

She put a hand out. “Don’t pull that out. You’ll kill him.”

The steel was at a vertical angle through a weak point in the suit. Which organs did it pierce? How bad was the bleeding? These questions dictated everything.

“Stay back.” The voice in the mask was heavy with an accent she couldn’t place. “Who are you?”

She forced herself to stop. Her tennis shoes scuffed against the hot asphalt. Every second counted and this fool couldn’t see it. The suit was covering the rod’s connection with the body, keeping it in place but also making it impossible to tell where it connected with the body.

Tony’s head lifted and his voice wavered. “Oh hey, it’s my doc. You can leave now.” He waved at the Black Panther. “Your medical care left something to be desired.”

Black Panther drew back in confusion. Catherine moved again. Hell with this other guy. Besides a few gentle bruises and rips, there was nothing to worry about on him. She ran over, coming to her knees and pulling open the bag. Tony blinked but the sharpness was gone in his eyes, replaced with a haze of pain. The metal was coming through a seam and into his lower abdomen. Black Panther walked back a step. She barely cared.

“I’m still a nurse practitioner.” She said to Tony. His face was pale, the face plate already off to the side, and his eyes followed her movements lazily. A smear of red was on his cheek.

“Yeah, well, semantics.”

Something blew up a few blocks away.

“Hey. Go take care of that please,” Tony said annoyed, “I’m trying to get all warm and cuddly with the doc.”

She should slap him. She didn’t. Instead she pulled gloves on and stared at the protrusion.

“Call an ambulance. Get it here immediately for a perforating wound by a two foot long steel beam.” She told the nearest soldier. This was beyond her. This needed a controlled settling, anesthetic, ultrasound, surgery, a team. 

“Stop talking so sexy,” Tony muttered and his eyelids dipped. 

“Shut up. You are going into shock.” She snaked her hand into the suit and groped for a pulse against his throat. His skin was clammy, cold and wet. His hand came up towards hers and then dropped heavily back at his side. A heartbeat. A weak one but it was there beating frantically.

“Just stay still. I’m getting you out of this.” She told him. His eyes continued to droop. They closed for a second, three seconds, fifteen seconds. She breathed. It was only a matter of time before he passed out. Part of her should be upset. For all their differences, he was a somewhat decent human being. Thinking about that under all of the ego was a soul wasn’t going to save him.

The suit hummed, chattering warnings in his ear that she couldn’t pick up. She had to get to the wound, she had to put pressure around it to stop the bleeding until the ambulance came. Unfortunately Iron Man was keeping her from doing that. The soldiers were inching closer, probably wanting to see what was happening.

“Get back and somebody get me the rest of my kit from the car,” she snapped and waved a hand, already it was covered in blood. She leaned close, feeling for the small indentation that was just under the left jaw of the suit. Her fingers slid against the steel. Damn it. If he changed this part of his suit, she would kill him. 

Remotely part of her said that she wouldn’t have to.

She tried again and located the small seam. The hatch popped open to reveal a button. She pressed it.

An pea sized light lit up red on his chest.

“You’re a bloody idiot, you know that Iron Man?” She whispered at his face. Tony’s eyes flickered but he didn’t respond. She wasn’t talking to him anyways. 

“You should know better by now Stark.” She finished the command line for FRIDAY. The speaker inside the helmet said something. The LED went green. The suit hissed and clicking sounds popped down the length of the armor. Steam oozed out from the joints.

FRIDAY’s voice sounded from a speaker. “Hello Doctor Crow. Welcome to Stark’s No Rocks Needed Protocol. Please let me know if you need any further assistance.”

Despite herself, she smiled. He really needed to get over that someday. It only happened once and it hadn’t even worked. Thor had been the one to forcibly peel up parts of the suit.

Another explosion rung in her ears from a couple blocks away.

She started with the red breast plate. It was heavy. When she grasped it, she fell forward with the weight. Bracing herself against his shoulder, it slid up and out of place like a puzzle piece. She tossed it aside to see a black shirt under it. It was soaked and one light press of her hand told her what it was.

A soldier inched up with a rolling suitcase. She gave him one look and he scattered as soon as it was within her reach.

She yanked the emergency oxygen unit out and saw her red hand prints on it already. She paused to put on another set of gloves. With dry hands, she spun the regulator onto the air tank, started the flow, and attached the mask to the unit. It whistled air. She swallowed and forced herself to breath. The elastic went over his head and set the mask firmly in place. It fogged immediately. That would help his breathing.

“Okay…” she moved back to the suit and onto the ribcage section. Two parts, she repeated to herself as she remembered studying the schematics. She couldn’t move fast enough as she took the right piece out and then the left. It was like peeling up a stubborn lid on a tuna can. The limp body inside was slowly being exposed to the outside, leaving hard edges where wires and joints were raw and naked.

The soldiers were watching her now. Some were muttering. She tossed away their attention. It wasn’t needed.

“FRIDAY,” she sat back looking at the rod and the slab of iron abs that held it in place. She needed to think this through. Stark had a coughing fit, his chest jumping up and out of the suit. He caught on the sharp remaining half of the suit and fell back.

“Yes, Doctor Crow?” FRIDAY prompted. “I am having trouble hearing you.”

She shook her head and then took a firm grip on the rod. “FRIDAY break the abdominal section into the smallest pieces possible.”

The section fell in on itself instantly in four inch pieces. That would do. The rod tried to sink to the right but her hand steadied it. She cleared away the pieces with her left hand. They clinked to the ground like dominoes pieces. She could see where it was inserted now. She knew was she was working with. 

Tony’s head moved in the helmet, almost knocking the mask off, but nothing he said made it to her ears. Still holding the steel, she reached into her bag and pull out her stack of surgical towels and gauze. The towels were wrapped around the protrusion, stabilizing it. The gauze went around and under him several times. Her sleeves were soaked through.

She checked his pulse again as she leaned forward, adding her own body weight to pressurize the wound. He winced and moved his leg but she didn’t stop. He was cold and sweaty in her arms

“Okay Tony,” she whispered as she checked that the bleeding had slowed considerably, “now we wait.”

They stayed like this. She monitored his flailing heart and the oxygen output. Her body weight kept his fluids inside him. At one point, she closed her eyes and allowed all the other sounds to drift away. Medicine was like this sometimes, nothing else mattered but the patient. She was holding onto his life for him. It was a thin thread build together by her experience and knowledge. It was freeing and limiting at once. 

It was a battle that was either won or lost. No middle ground.

The ambulance came then. Exhaustion had settled across her shoulders but she helped the EMTs as they finished getting the man out of the suit and set him on a gurney. She sat on the asphalt and watched him disappear through the streets of Chicago.

Out of her hands. She stripped the double set of gloves off and threw them aside. Her work was done. Already the technicians were starting on the Iron Man clean up.

Her phone binged. 

I saw you in Chicago. Medical attention needed please.

From an unknown number and with an address attached that was only a few blocks away. Her head dropped between her knees and she took a long breath. It was shaky. She forced herself to steady and solidify mentally. It was time to get up. 

*

“You guys have to got to work this shit out.” Catherine said as she withdrew from Natasha’s arm with her needle. Her neck and back were on fire from the strain of the last hour. “I’m a criminal now because I help you.”

Natasha inspected her stitches. “Tell Stark to get it worked out. Then we will talk.”

They were in the kitchen of restaurant that had been abandoned due to the attack. As she limped to the back, she’d found them on the tile, trying to work out their own wounds. Steve’s eyes had gotten large at her shirt and pants. They were more red than gray now. She responded that he would pull through without him having to ask the question. All thoughts of what the hell she was doing cut from her mind when she saw their injuries.

“He’s going to find out about this.” Catherine zipped up her bag again. “I’ll be fired and you won’t be able to get medical attention anymore and I won’t have a job.”

“What did you tell them this time?” She asked.

“I needed a drink. Somehow that worked.”

Both Tony and Steve had both been tracking the same group of people. It had something to do with some old Stark tech that was being reweaponized. They had “pinched” the people in Chicago. Iron Man getting them publicly after Captain America pushed them up from underground. Neither knew that the other was about to strike but the effect was immediate. These two had attacked and while they were escaping, Iron Man came in from the top. 

She stood slowly, pulling the bag over her shoulder and finding the empty to-go cup for her lie. Something was torn inside her as she looked at them. They needed her but doing this sort of thing was putting her in jeopardy.

Steve pulled something out of his pocket and put it in hers. “Here. Get yourself something real drink.”

It was a twenty dollar bill. The smile on Steve’s face was genuine. They had been through so much already. She’d been there behind the scenes over and over again helping these heroes be who they needed to be.

“Be more careful calling me in the future, please.”

Steve grinned. “Tony was unconscious, what’s a better time than that?”

She laughed at that ridiculousness. If it was as simple as that, then she’d just try to keep Tony blindingly drunk all the time. She closed her eyes and shook her head. 

Arms came around her and pulled her close. Steve had drawn her into a hug. It was huge and surrounding. The laugh cut off in her throat. She tensed against the grip. The twenty rumpled in her hand.

“Thanks for the help, doc.”

“Don’t get hurt again soon.” She pulled back with a forced smile. “I’m going before they miss me anymore.”

Steve’s face paused for a moment at her withdrawing and then resumed smiling. “You got it.”

She hurried away from that place.

*

Catherine woke up staring at the clock. 1:22 AM.

The hotel room was pitch dark and cold. They had brought her to the hotel after she had spent the rest of the day helping give emergency care to all the causalities. She’d eaten room service without tasting it and fallen dead asleep afterward.

She wasn’t worried about Tony. Stark had pulled through, she had gotten the call. It was going to take a little time and some reconstructive surgery but the damage was minor at worse to his vital organs. He was a lucky man. 

Why was she awake?

Her phone was dead on the table. It wasn’t buzzing. She wasn’t hot or hungry.

Then she heard the humming and the clicking through the walls. A sewing machine. He couldn’t be serious. She checked the time again. 1:26 AM.

She rolled out of bed, all her muscles noting individually to her that they were sore. The warm covers left her shoulders and she groaned against the cold air. Part of her didn’t want to get up but someone needed to tell him to go to bed. All of this felt so familiar like she had been dropped back in time by a year. She pulled on her shoes and wrapped the bathrobe over her pajamas.

The hallway light was bright against her face as she stumbled next door. She felt awful, a repercussion from all the stress she had been under. Her knuckles brushed against the door.

“Who is it?” Andy’s voice was muffled against the door.

“Catherine.” She sounded as groggy as she felt. She coughed into her elbow trying to clear that up.

“Coming.”

The lock clicked inside and he popped the door open. “Come in, I’m in the middle of something, okay?”

Of course he was. He always was.

The overhead lights were on as she slipped inside leaving the room timeless. He was already back to the desk where pieces of a shirt were everywhere. He hunched over, running two panels through the sewing machine.

“What are you doing?” There was no accusation in her voice, just a softness. “It’s the middle of the night.”

He didn’t look up. “Stark’s going to need something to wear out of the hospital and there were some other shirts he wanted done today.”

She leaned against the wall near him. “Can’t it wait?”

“Never pulled an all nighter?” He asked as he went to the iron. 

“I got my masters in medicine.”

The cloth hissed steaming under the pressure and he smiled at her. Deep circles were under his eyes. “You see? You survived.”

She’d seen him do this before. Late nights in front of the sewing machine making sure that every seam would lay flat. How may iterations of one suit had she seen laying across the table? She couldn’t imagine him without them. Over and over again. Alone. He didn’t want help.

She pushed off the wall. “Go to bed soon, Andy. Please. For your sake.”

She closed the door softly behind her and then went back to the comfort of his own bed. Perfectionists. She had tried to abandon that path in everything except her patients a long time ago for this reason. 

Her phone buzzed. She swore that she was going to throw it out of a window soon.

Peter’s number glowed on her phone. 

Wow. These are really good!

The paintings. She had forgotten about that. A anxiety reawakened in her stomach by sending them but she squashed it back down. Clicking the phone closed, she rolled over to go back to sleep.

That was a good kid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it's odd. I had to call my first ever ambulance this week for someone and interact with EMTs. Is this story leaching over into real life? Will I start seeing superheroes? Only time will tell. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! What did you think? Things are starting to ramp up now.
> 
> Let me know what you think with a comment and a kudo. It keeps me writing! Thanks for reading as always. - Quin


	6. In Which Things Are Tipsy

"What the hell do you think that you are doing?" Catherine asked as she rested against a desk chair, margarita in hand.

The office was loud in her ears as they cranked up the dance music. The beat rung hard in her ears. It was a week after Chicago and as usual, Stark threw a "destresser" party for the staff. All this really meant was he bought in copious amounts of free alcohol, enough bartenders to dispense it, a DJ and a full cleaning crew for the early hours of the morning.

The best part was that the man himself didn't attend.

Andy laughed as he balanced a stool on the sleeping technician. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Sure, buddy," she said. She should be against this. She idly thought this every time it happened but Stark brought in a couple medical staff to handle any problems so she could be off the clock. Everyone was an adult in the room. They made their own choices tonight.

The stool tottered on the guy's thigh before falling over. Andy howled and ran away into the crowd.

She took a drink. Her head was buzzing pleasantly. The technician stirred and looked up, confused at the stool at his side. He stared at her.

"Wasn't me."

She turned away and Andy was right behind her. "I've got a great idea."

"What?"

He grasped her empty hand. "Come on back to my office."

"If you think that I am drunk enough to sleep with you, that's not happening."

He screwed up his face. "This is better than that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Let me another one of these then."

* * *

Catherine couldn't stop laughing at her reflection in the mirror. It was the funniest thing that she had seen in a long damn time.

In Andy's workroom, he had a full length mirror for the superheros to stand in and critique the work. She swayed back and forth, watching the long red cape drag against the floor.

She was wearing a prototype of Thor's armor. The shoulders were lopsided and the stomach plates touched her thighs but she was the God of Thunder. Andy had pinched the suit closed with clamps so it hung right. She raised Andy's small mallet accusingly at the reflection.

"Art thou good with the needle?" She asked herself a waver in her voice.

Andy, or should she say, Captain America, came up behind her. "'Merica!"

The giggles came from nowhere. They shook her hard. He caught them too as he looked at the suits.

"How ridiculous." She gasped as she stepped on her own cloak. "Why would anyone actually wear these?"

"Because they are superheros and this is what they asked for."

She tapped the mallet against the large metal disks on her chest. "These look like dinner plates."

"Originally, they were painted salad plates." His face was red as he struck a strongman pose, flexing the blue spandex.

"No…" She touched them.

He nodded. "He was adamant about it."

She stumbled forward and pressed her hand against the glass, laughing. The strain was gone. It was just them in silly expensive Halloween costumes. None of the pain. None of the stress. None of Tony's or Steve's blood on her hands. No panic suppressed under training. Or the way that they looked at her as she saw the thought of death cross their eyes. It was creeping up on her now. It was in the back of her throat, sour and molasses, tickling up her spine like a bad dream.

"…Cathy?"

"God, where is that drink?" She pushed off the mirror. "How many years have we been doing this? Ten?"

Fakeo Captain America shook his head. "Like four?"

"Only four?" She took a deep drink.

"Four long years." He pulled at the suit. "I need to talk to my mom tomorrow. Four years of raises isn't enough for this shit."

His mom was nice. When work got to be too much, she had cooked Catherine a lasagna that she had stretched a week.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do." She said licking the acidity of her lips and checking her phone. "Oh. Spider-Man's texted me."

"Please tell me he's not complaining about a weggie. It comes with the spandex."

"No…It's not about that."

"Tell him to wear a thong like everyone else."

She lowered her phone. "A _thong_?"

"I know a couple good brands." Andy nodded his head too many times and threw back the rest of his beer.

"But thongs?"

He waved wildly. "How do you not know this? There is a running betting pool of how long it will take before you strip down Spider-Man."

That stopped her thoughts entirely. She stepped back like she had been hit. Peter? The high schooler?

He took her shocked silence to continue to justify himself. "Professionally of course."

"That's…incredibly inappropriate."

He smiled. It was growing across his face like a cancer. "You've seen the rest of them…you know."

"No. No. I haven't. We'll talk about this again when I'm sober." She pulled off the cape and walked over with her phone. "Look at this. Do you think that this painting is worth showing anybody?"

It was one of her work. A skull with a snake curled around it. A dog glancing at it in the background.

Andy scrunched up his face. "It's not the best thing you've made."

"Spider-Man wants to put it in a show for me, he just needs a couple details."

"Don't do it. You'll regret it." He tossed his beer can at his trash can. He missed.

It was getting dark outside. The late evening was starting to set in. She needed to start getting back home so she could work on downing some asprin to offset all the acceptable poison she'd being ingesting.

"I think I'm going to do it."

"Don't."

She hummed to herself before putting the phone away.

"We aren't done talking about this betting pool." She peeled the suit off with his help and adjusted her shirt. "I'm serious."

He leaned against his sewing table. "No one will admit it to you. It's like bite club."

She walked out the door shaking her head. Part of her didn't want to correct him but the alcohol was running thick in her.

"_Fight_ club." She turned and leaned against the frame. "Good night, Fernando."

He smiled, something longing pressing against his face. "Catherine, maybe I'm reading this wrong but do you ever think…?"

"No." She cut him off. Her head was spinning. "You need to find someone else. We don't work. We agreed on that."

"We did." He closed his eyes and his chin dipped into his chest. That told her everything. He'd still be holding on. Her lips tightened and she closed the door on that sight, heading back to the party and as far away from that as she could possibly go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we start rolling with revelations.
> 
> Very quick thanks to my friend K who talked me down from a ledge about this chapter literally the night before I posted this. If you didn't notice, there isn't a single Marvel character in the scene. Hopefully, if I did my job right, you enjoyed it anyways.
> 
> Drop a comment or a kudo if you wish! Thanks for reading as always. -Quin


	7. In Which We Adjust

“Morning Ms. Catherine.”

She set down her coffee and smiled at the suited up Peter Parker sitting on the extra chair in the exam room. She had been on the phone with the surgeons from Chicago finding out about the physical for Tony. He refused to have a real physical therapist come in, citing that only one person needed to see him fall down. He followed that up with a “having a Masters in medicine meant that you can do anything, right?”

So Spider-Man had to wait a couple extra minutes.

She locked the door behind her. “Morning Peter. How are we doing today?”

“You know, midterms are next week but that’s alright.” The kid was back in the suit from the pictures. It oozed Stark and Andy all over it. The way that the red and the black panels cut across his form was almost Andy’s signature at this point. He pulled the mask off. A shadow of a bruise was on his chin but he was smiling anyways.

“Nice new suit.” She eyed the spot and sat down in the office chair, automatically logging into the computer. “Do I want to know what happened to your chin?”

“A mailbox, one of the big blue ones.” He said that casually as he shifted, pulling his backpack into his lap.

A mailbox. She set down the pen. “Peter. Do we need to have a talk?”

He dug in his bag, pulling out a history book thick enough to kill someone. “No ma’am. That one was a complete accident. I wasn’t even being Spider-Man. Ned pushed me while I was looking at MJ and I didn’t see a crack in the sidewalk and well, you know.”

Right. Of course. Catherine decided that it was best to let that one go. 

“Today we’re getting your immunizations up to date. Just a few shots, mostly in your arms, two on one side, one on the other. It’ll be sore for…” Usually she said a couple days but that seemed incorrect in this case. “A bit.”

A seven years of education and that was all she could muster.

“Sure.” He smiled. “Here. As promised.”

He pulled out a small tupperware container and offered it. Catherine gave him a long look before taking it. The contents rumbled around.

“I promised you them.” He reminded her.

She opened the lid to the sight of freshly baked cookies. The smell of a home that wasn’t hers filled the lab. The paper towels inside nestled about a dozen chocolate chip cookies. They were a little bit crumbled and the chocolate had melted but they were there. No doubt they had gotten a beating from the ride over.

He shouldn’t have done this. She had to tell him that. She was just doing her job. She was paid to take care of him. The words caught in her throat. He was looking at her with such expectation. His hands clamped onto each other tight and he held his breath. 

“These look really good.” She put the lid back on. “I’ll have to have one later.”

“Phew.” He leaned back in the chair. “I was worried that you were going to be allergic to chocolate or something.”

“I don’t think that women can be allergic to chocolate. Shirt off please.” She turned back to preparing the injections. Then her second sentence hit her, intermingled with the drunken haze of the betting pool. God, sometimes she hated other people. 

The suit hissed behind her and he mumbled as he tried to get it off. She steeled herself against Andy’s sloppy smile in her mind. Professionally, she turned back.

The kid was built, surprisingly so for otherwise pretending to be as thin as a beanstalk. She had seen built men. All of her patients had at one point or another had their shirt off in front of her. The rest of the suit always stayed on. Thank god Thor had never tried to hit on her. Probably because she was enforcing her “human standards” on a “god’s body”.

The man had bled like everyone else. 

The Spider-Man’s suit fabric pooled around his hips and he continued to wave his feet. He seemed unphased as he studied the far walls.

“So Ms. Catherine, you know girls.” He scratched his head. “Does the chocolate thing actually work?”

“It depends on the girl.” A smile worked over her face as she prepped the injection site. “Does Mr. Parker have a crush?”

“Her name is MJ.” He started and Catherine prepared herself for the “Peter Spill” as she dubbed it. He took a deep breath. “She’s super smart and knows a lot about really random things. She pretends that she doesn’t care about anything but I think that she secretly does. She does this thing with her eyes when she smiles…it’s…”

He paused self conscious.

“Yes?” She tossed the swab.

“Well ma’am, it’s cute.”

He looked away laughing at himself. Catherine kept the smile from her face.

“She sounds like a keeper. First one,” she said evenly and injected the shot.

“Ow. I want hang out with her or something but I don’t know how to do that. I thought maybe chocolate?”

She put the used syringe aside. “Have you ever spent time together outside of school? Do you want an Iron Man or Hulk bandaid?”

“Iron Man. Not really. I want too but I haven’t.” He sounded sad about it and studied his hands. It stirred her dead heart.

“I think you need to do some things together before you go for chocolate step. Here comes the second one.”

She pressed it in and he flinched. “Ouch! That one hurt more. I don’t know how to do that with her.”

Catherine moved to his other side, giving him the Hulk bandaid without asking. “There is only one more to go. I don’t think you are ready for a date.”

“Oh no, I’d do something wrong or be called away to be Spider-Man.”

She smiled. “I don’t think it has anything to do with that. You’ve got to get comfortable around her first. What about a movie with friends?”

“Oh.” He nodded like this was a new idea. “Like when I started jumping off buildings, I started with one or two stories. Yesterday I jumped off the Empire State Building with my eyes closed for fun. Do you know how many stories that building is? I can’t remember.”

“…Ms. Catherine? Are you okay?”

“Let’s go back to talking about movies. Last one.” These people were going to be the death of her.

He scrolled through his phone barely twitching at the last shot. He was completely absorbed in his phone. “There is a movie about a murderer who kills people with the weapons that they oppressed others with. That sounds like a good idea.”

“She would like that?”

He looked at her nodding quickly. “She’d love it.”

Somehow these kids grew up on a different planet than she did. Still, it made Peter excited, that was all that mattered.

“Give it a try.” She plastered Black Widow over the last injection. “Go with a few other friends too. We’re all done. Are you off to anywhere else?”

“Andy.” He pulled up the suit again and pressed the spider on the front to tighten it. She needed to see if Tony had build in a back door for her in that outfit. She was sure that she wouldn’t be able to puncture that with her scissors if needed. She swallowed. She shouldn’t be thinking about such things. He was a kid. He was grinning at her because of a high school crush who he wanted to give chocolate. 

Iron Man’s blood smeared face appeared before her as the ambulance had carried him away. Peter, this kid, could get himself in similar trouble. It made her feel sick.

She shook her head. “Where are you going?”

He pulled the mask on and the eyes flickered open and closed a couple times. “The suit is a little tight so I figured I should go see Andy about that. Can you take me to him?”

“Sure.” The answer was automatic. He chattered in her ears as they navigated across the building. He skipped as he continued to talk about his “friend” as he dubbed her outside the safety of the exam room. He only rubbed the injection spots on his arms every once and a while. 

This kid got shot at with weapons on a daily basis.

“Maybe I’ll be able to sit next to her. That could be good.” She could hear the grin in his voice.

He had crash landed a plane that was on fire. 

Somehow she should convince Tony to see the truth. 

This was too much for him.

“It’s really fun being Spider-Man, I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Peter said as they came up on Andy’s door. “I get to save and help all these people. It’s a great feeling, you know?”

She stared at those white eyes and then smiled softly. It was the inflection in his voice that did it. He meant it. He got the same feelings that she did when she was able to save someone. No matter the personal consequences, it was worth it. She had to help him to continue to do what he loved. Damn her own feelings and consequences.

“Okay Peter.” She told him, signing the agreement in her mind. 

She wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder and drew him for a hug. He stumbled, not expecting it, almost falling into her. After a second, he reciprocated. It felt odd. It had been a year since she hugged anyone. She didn’t crave contact yet here she was. This world was dangerous that he was skipping into. He needed all the support he could get.

The mask whirred in her ears as his head fit next to hers. She felt content, an strange feeling, almost maternal. Something was getting in her eyes and she had to blink it away. She remembered herself like someone had dumped cold water on her. After everything, people didn’t get close to her. Yet, this one was alright. She gave him a hard squeeze before letting go.

“Was that for the cookies?” He asked confused. 

She turned around abruptly. “Let me know how it goes with the lady.”

“Thank you Ms. Catherine,” he shouted still bewildered and she waved a hand over her shoulder. Things were just a little more right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I read this chapter, it always gives me warm feelings at the end. I remember when I wrote this scene that hug came out of nowhere. It wasn't in the plan. It was completely Catherine. I really love Peter's and Catherine's relationship. What do you think? Let me know.
> 
> Thanks for all the love and support so far. Drop me a comment or a kudos if you'd like. Thanks for reading. -Quin


	8. In Which We Have A Run In

"Rotate your shoulders to the left for me. Look at that back wall if you can," Catherine said as she watched the muscles stretch and contort around the red scar on Stark's stomach. It was a pretty ugly looking thing, just yesterday she had taken out the stitches. The line moved as Tony twisted stiffly.

Her flat hand pressed against it, feeling the scar tissue move but this was just the newest addition to his beaten body.

"Now the other way please." She removed her hand and studied the way that his stomach flexed and folded around the injury. Idly she noted the way that his right side moved easier than his left.

"This is why I hated PE in high school. Only hard work would change my final grade." Tony muttered through his teeth. She glanced up at him but concentrated on his movements. The scar tissue wasn't attached to his organs. The skin was loose to move. That was her primary concern.

"You can relax." She leaned back and asked idly, "Did that mean that you cheated your other tests?"

He hunched forward on the edge of his desk. His forehead was shiny and he rubbed his stomach. "No, but I found workarounds, better ways to do things for most everything."

She nodded. She had come up to the main complex to examine him. Partially, she hated it. Yesterday, she'd had a three hour phone call with Captain about how to get the right amount of protein in his diet then Natasha had stolen the phone from him to get some new stretches for her overextended hip.

The phone had been silent for a minute before his office called to schedule her to come in.

It was like he had read her mind. Ever since then, a rock had been forming in her stomach. Surely it was only a matter of time.

"Cap would be over this by now, even without the super serum." His fingers massaged his scar.

She raised her eyebrows. Her heart was beating faster now. She tried to slow it.

"Have you heard anything from him?" He slid off his desk uneasily and back over to the iced tea that was on the side table. Pepper's concoction, he had insisted.

"No. Never." Her heart crawled into her neck. She placed her hands on her lap but that wasn't right so she put them to work with her pen. She wrote arbitrary numbers on her pad. Later, she wouldn't know what they were about.

"He just abandoned his only doctor like that?" The ice clicked against the glass. His tone was getting more serious now. The question dug against her skin. For once, she didn't want to correct him. She looked harder at her numbers, avoiding his gaze.

She shrugged, her shoulders going too high and concentrated on jotting down more numbers on the sheet. "A mistake. For him, I suppose."

"Ha." It was self deprecating sound and more of the tea disappeared. She had to get the topic away from Captain America. Her hands were sweating so hard that the pen could slip out of her hands any moment.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked and met his eyes. He was nervous for some reason. His finger was tapping against the table and he was propped up against it like a stiff Barbie doll. Maybe she could redirect his attention.

He poured himself another glass of tea. "Well, besides this health kick Pepper is on and the fact that I feel like I'm dying every day-"

"-you are dying everyday. We all are." She corrected him.

He paused the pouring and then continued. "Faster than usual then. Besides that, I'm fine." He waved his hands, paused and then waved them again, as in response to the first gestures. Tony was having a conversation with the empty air. His mind wasn't in the room.

His statement was odd. There was nothing insulting in it. Now she was concerned.

"Are you surely everything else is okay?"

He pointed at her to an invisible audience. "You see that? There is example B of why robots will never make it in medicine. Ms. Catherine, as Peter like to call her, I can't replace you as much as I want to."

"If he stopped going to active war zones, he wouldn't need me." She addressed the empty room but refocused. "And you are avoiding the question."

"Right."

He set the glass down and came over to her quickly. The seriousness on his face told her everything. He knew. He had to know. She shouldn't have prodded him. There was no way that she could actually think that she would fool the billionaire. The door was behind her. If she kidded herself, maybe she could get to the floor below before he caught up.

He pulled his office chair around and sat in it the wrong way in front of her.

"Catherine Crow. That's a really unfortunate last name," he said. "Cathy, I help run a security company. A very big one now."

She squinted her eyes. Her heels slid to jam against the tile floor. She didn't need this type of scolding. She'd rather just leave and move back across the country.

"You say 'yes' here."

"Yes."

He cocked his head. "Honestly. How did you think that I wasn't going to find out…about your little _shenanigans_?"

She shook her head, trying to keep calm. "I'm not sure I follow."

"You are smart enough to keep me alive. Put it together. You sneak off. Sometimes your distracted at work."

Her heart wanted to explode. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Have you?"

"No."

"Then why did I get an email, _an email_, notifying me that you had been accepted in a juried show and you didn't even bother to send out a staff announcement about it?"

Of course.

She started laughing. It was almost unhinged sounding as she leaned against the chair back. "I'm in the show?"

Of all the things that was what he had been notified of, this was what he got and now here he was delivering the news to her. She pushed a hand against her face and shook her head into it. Cold washed over her. Oh god, she had made it in. That hazy night she had submitted her details to Peter and then downed the rest of her drink. Now, it was real.

"You didn't know." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"I don't check my personal email while I work."

"The art isn't great but Pepper has been on me about staff development and community building and kumbaya shit and you'll be spearheading this for me."

In that moment, she realized that there was something worse than being a criminal.

"No." She got up, going to her bag and tossing everything inside. She'll sort it out later. "I refuse. Find someone else. Go to Nicole's baby shower or something."

"Doctor by day…artist by night…" He mused, "It's a good tag line. Could be a Buzzfeed article."

That was the tipping point. She kept her life private. She imagined all the faces at work finding out. They would laugh at the painting or worse, much worse, they would be forced to come to the opening and say false niceties. Just the idea of it made her sick.

"If you do this, I will quit." The solidity of the statement surprised her. She was confident in it. There were other jobs, better jobs, jobs where she could help her heroes without Stark's handy equipment or salary.

The shock on his face was almost worth it.

"I could fire you for saying that." He pointed at her.

She smiled, the patient one that was the shield she hid behind. "You would fire me for threatening to quit after you said you couldn't replace me."

He made a pained expression and sulked back behind his desk. She could see how it was. He had to beat her to the punch if this was where this was going. He always had to win. He always had to be right. God, she was so tired of it.

"Do you know how much I deal with? How much shit you put me through and now you want invade my personal life too?" She asked, anger flashing through her constraints. There was more that she wanted to remind him of. All the little calls in the middle of the nights. Being dragged away at the strangest hours to deal with alien, literally, wounds. How everything in her life had crumbled since she had joined the "Stark family".

Or worse of all, how she had left for one week and nobody kept their shit together.

None of that came out of her mouth because his intercom buzzed on his desk.

He pressed it immediately. "Yes?"

"Andy is here to see you for your fitting for the gala."

The man was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. She glared at Tony as he paused to answer. His finger hovered over the phone for a second and then pressed it down resolutely.

"Send him in." He reached for his iced tea which was still on the side table. In a movement, he went over to it and sat back down, drink in hand.

She dragged the bag onto her shoulder, forcing herself to be calmer. "Don't tell anyone about the show. Pick someone else to be your guinea pig."

Now it was his turn to smile pleasantly at her. Andy opened the door, a garment bag over his arm. He stopped short, surprised by seeing her there. He looked exhausted. She made an angry note to talk to Andy about that later. It was probably just worry about his mom. He was sweating too. It wasn't that hot out. She pulled the bag closer on her shoulder.

"He's all yours," she grumbled and pushed out the door and back to the city where she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I get you? Catherine's little ruse is still in place but hanging by a thread! Maybe Stark knowing about the art show is somehow worse...I'll leave that one up to you.
> 
> Thank you for the outpouring of love for this story the last week...the comments...the kudos...I'm astounded that my little idea that I thought nobody else would read is getting so much attention. It makes all my late nights worth it.
> 
> So let me know what you think! Did I get you? Or is Catherine in even deeper waters now? Haha. Thanks for reading as always. -Quin


	9. In Which We Call In Late

Catherine's phone was answered and at her ear before the rest of her had a chance to wake up. It had become automatic after years of this. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the last seconds of sleepy haze of whatever way past her bedtime it was. It had been a rough day. How the hell did four different people come down with a stomach virus at once?

Anything related to Stark was unwelcome now.

"Happy, you better have a good reason for calling." She muttered and rolled onto her back. "Whose bleeding?"

"…Ms. Catherine?" Peter's voice cut through her sleepiness like a hot knife. It sounded almost muffled and strange through the speaker.

"Peter? Are you alright?" She pushed up in her bed. Her stomach and muscles complained but she hardly paid attention to that.

She grasped the clock and squinted at the time. Without her contacts, it was a blurry 3 am. What was he doing up?

"Oh yeah," he responded, "Do you have a second to talk?"

_A second to talk?_ She snapped on the light and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Pushing her glasses on, she took a good look at the time.

"What are you doing up at 3:44 in the morning? Isn't it Wednesday?" Her back ached from yesterday and waking up as such an odd time wasn't helping either.

"Thursday." He corrected her and hurried on. "So…I asked MJ about the movie. Well, Ned asked MJ for me about the movie."

It took her a moment and temple rubbing to remember who the hell he was talking about. It was the excitement his voice, the buzzing, child-like, unembarrassed tone which kept her for telling him that this number was for emergencies only.

She pulled herself back under the sheets and propped up against the headboard. "What did she say?"

Her room was empty except for the kid's voice.

"She said that it sounded absolutely stupid."

"Oh no," she said. Peter deserved a little break. "We will have to think of something else."

"Nooo…that' a good thing! We're going Friday, so the day after tomorrow, I mean today, or tonight? I dunno, it all gets confusing sometimes."

"That's great, Peter!" A little too much excitement came into her voice. She caught herself grinning at the blank wall before she corrected herself. "I think that is a good next step."

"I thought so too. You know, I've been thinking about telling you all day but there just wasn't time until now."

Catherine adjusted her glasses, trying to imagine how he was only available now. "You should go to bed, young man."

Even being serious, there was color in her tone. She shouldn't talk to her patients late at night like this. The city came through the speaker, a taxi honking, a couple people shouting. The bedroom was quiet. She had specified that she wanted it to be soundproof and off most trash routes so she could sleep soundly. A feat to find in the NYC area.

"Oh I will, I'm just waiting for the guys to show up."

"Maybe you two can share a popcorn or something."

"Share popcorn?" It was an empty question. He sounded frozen on the line as he blew a breath out. Had the thought actually not crossed his mind? It was too much for his teenage and hormone addled brain.

"No. That's too soon." She shook a hand in the air aimlessly.

Now all she could hear was the city still. Someone shouted off in the distance of wherever he was.

"Just a movie with a few friends," she assured him.

"…just a movie."

She played with her keys by her bed. It had been a weird day. There was an accident in the lab which meant that she had been called away and then she had found Andy leaving her office on the way back, stating he had been looking for her. Andy then proceeded to blabber nonsense and waste her time. Peter reminded her why she kept up with all this stuff.

"Do you have an outfit picked out?"

"Whatever is cleanest."

She laughed. Right, boys.

"Try for something that doesn't have too many wrinkles, okay?"

She can almost hear him nodding. "I'll be good anyways. Aunt May isn't taking the whole…Spider-Man thing that well."

"She knows?"

That was a surprise. The more she thought about it, the more she should have seen it coming. They did live in the same house. The kid was terrible at keeping any lie.

"Yeah, I'll tell you later, looks like I have to go. They are finally trying to break in."

She pushed back up off the headrest. "Break in? Where are you? Do I need to come?"

"I've been just hanging outside the MOMA. I overheard some thugs talking about taking that old painting, you know, the Starry Night? I was just gonna wait outside and make sure it was okay. It's kinda famous. It looks like they were actually serious. Wow those are big guns," He whispered.

"Peter-"

"I've got to go. I'll text you later. Don't worry! I'll let you know. Oh, they spotted me. Good night Catherine! We should get pizza sometime-Hey guys!" The words ran together at the end and then barely, she heard the sound of breaking glass as the line went dead.

She rubbed her face but smiled despite herself. He would call if he got hurt, she told herself that. The room was empty now with the phone dead in her hands. Catherine shook her head, took off her glasses, and turned off the light.

Her phone buzzed an twenty minutes later.

_Excited for the movies!_ A selfie was attached. Spider-Man was giving her a thumbs up, four burly men tied with webbing underneath the Starry Night.

She slept a little easier after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late! I got scheduled to work on Saturday and well, it was either post at 6 am or Sunday.
> 
> I couldn't help but write a little more cheese. These two are just so fun to write together. If I had less self control, I could see this story devolving into just Peter and Catherine being around each other. Thankfully that won't be the case! 
> 
> I'm not someone who will beg for comments but I would love to get this story over 30 comments before the end. This story is a passion project but your encouragement keeps me up late at night polishing and editing. Do you think we could manage that goal?
> 
> Thank you for readings as always.
> 
> -Quin
> 
> Ps. Strap in. Next week is a doozy.


	10. In Which Our Heroes Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quin here. Just a heads up that this chapter and the following one are not gruesome but do have graphic content. This is no worse than "In Which There is An All-Nighter" but I felt the need to let you know. Enjoy!

"I came here to tell you that I am going to stop torturing you." Tony folded his hands on her desk and looked proud of himself.

At this point, all Catherine wanted to do to was give up, slam the door and go back home. Not only had there been an insufferable amount of traffic getting to work but now Tony Stark had waltzed in three minutes after she arrived, asked if she was busy, didn't give her a chance to answer and demanded a closed door meeting.

And now he went on to say annoying shit like this.

"What are you talking about?" She adjusted her seat in her chair. "I thought you agreed not to mention my artwork."

He smiled. "I know that you are helping Steve and Natasha."

"What?"

She had put that card off the table. Catherine had been so sure that this meeting was going to be about the art show.

It had been a couple months since she had started helping Tony's enemies. If he knew, well, since he knew she was sure he would arrest her immediately. Time had passed with nothing so she had decided to put the worry aside and live her life.

It wasn't supposed to come like this, a quiet meeting in her office, no other fanfare. Her phone started ringing in her back pocket. She silenced it.

Tony popped a piece of gum in his mouth. "You. Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Buddy buddies. You last talked to them…yesterday around noon."

She felt cold, odd, detached. That was correct. She had called Natasha to make sure that her hip wasn't acting up anymore.

There was no reason to run for the door. It was over. It was best to not embarrass herself any further. He smacked his gum loudly and played with a pen but his eyes were trained on her, waiting to see what she would do.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the beginning."

She blew out a breath. "Why haven't you stopped me?"

"Because I don't want to."

"You hate Steve."

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She sent it to voicemail again.

He sighed and put the pen on the table. "I don't hate Steve. I hate what happened. I hate that he had the chance to kill me and he didn't have the balls to do it. Then, well, with that little boyscout, there's no going back."

She hadn't known any of this. During that week, she had been on leave. Andy and her had broke up. She left everything in a normal state.

She came back to a different world and a different boss. The man was fractured physically and mentally. Her job had been to help him put the pieces back together. Half of that had been easy.

"Call it my good Samaritan deed for the year." He waved. "Come on, give me my plaque?"

She shook her head. "You aren't mad?"

"Sure, I was furious for a few seconds." He pulled a piece of paper off her desk, the write up for one of the burn patients from the lab explosion.

Her phone started up again. She sent it to voicemail, shifted and pulled it out.

"Sorry, let me just turn this off…"

_Peter Parker: three missed calls._

Peter was trying to call her, over and over again. Peter usually left four minute long voicemails. There were none of those. All she had was three missed calls over and over again. The shock of her situation disappeared. Even Tony lowered the paper at the concern that must have came across her face.

"What?"

She dialed his number and looked at Tony. "What is Peter doing right now?"

"He played hooky from school and apprehended someone trying to steal fifty six croissants or something. I don't keep track that closely. Weren't we talking about you?"

The tone started to drone in her ear. "He called me three times. Can you find him please?"

"How did he get your number?" Tony pulled a tablet from inside his jacket pocket and put his foot on his knee.

It kept ringing. "Don't you know everything?"

"I could still fire you." He swiped up, lighting up the room with a holographic display. NYC came up blue and translucent on her desk, a perfect little replica.

"Hey, find Underoos," he asked the machine.

The dial tone kept going as the computer scanned for the suit, running across the tiny sky scrapers in sweeping blue lines.

The call went silent, he must not have a voicemail set up. She stared at the search. It had picked up the Stark suit now somewhere near Manhattan and was zooming in on the area. It clarified itself. Tony yawned, throwing his gum at her trash can and missing.

"Ms. Catherine…?"

Peter's voice coming through her phone almost scared her. He had picked up but hadn't spoken for a moment. He sounded off, tired with the end of her name slurring off.

"Peter, what's wrong?" She knocked into the desk as she stood. Tony's eyebrows rose and he stilled in his chair, all questions.

"I don't know." Peter took a long pause and she could hear him jump over something with effort. "I was fighting this croissant thief and that went well but now I'm feeling really bad."

"I need you to tell me what's happening."

Now Tony wasn't lounging and actually working to locate the kid. He was typing into the tablet. The hologram scanned quicker, focusing until they could see exactly where Peter was. He was heading across town, a red blip navigating from roof to roof.

"I kinda found a dart in my thigh, you know, the ones with the fuzzy ends? I don't know how long it's been there. Now I'm trying to get home but I-I-I don't think I'm going to make it. Can you come get me? Don't tell Mr. Stark please."

Her heart stopped.

"You've been shot with a_ tranquilizer dart_?"

"Yeah. I think so."

She started feel herself break. Panic started to seep in. They were so far away from him, still across the river in Stark's office building. She shoved that down for the medical, analytical, side of her. The emotion could be for later. Overdoses were easy when you didn't know your target's physical details. It didn't work like in the movies. The body was a sensitive thing. Peter could be on the verge of a respiratory arrest.

Tony's face mirrored hers. Horror followed by the cold truth that they needed to leave.

"Annnnddd we're off." Tony grasped her arm and put the display back on his tablet.

"Peter, get off any tall buildings." She allowed Tony to drag her out of the room, her concentration on her phone. "Get to ground level where we can get to you. Try to hide if you can."

"My head has really started spinning." He was loopy on the phone. "Is it normal not to be able to feel your toes?"

According to his display, he was 60 floors up on an office building, hanging off the side.

"Get off of there and find somewhere to lay down, on your side, now." They were heading to the airplane bay. Her words were falling on deaf ears. They were maybe a mile out from where he was.

"I'm…"

The little red dot fell.

She heard the phone smash into the pavement before it went dead. Tony's face was grim as he broke them into a run. Spider-Man free fell for a few hundred feet before he woke up for a moment, enough to shoot out a web, slam into the wall and then slid down it too fast. The suit didn't move once it hit the ground.

"Get on the helicopter. Hold this." Tony put the phone in her hands. "I'm going there now. Tell me what to do and then get there yourself as quick as you can."

She was blind to everything as the staff guided her into the helicopter. All she could see was Stark disappearing into his own plane and then Iron Man blasting out the back less than a minute later. The small machine buzzed to life. Someone handed her a headset. It fit snuggly on her head and then she connected the end to the tablet.

It had switched, now showing what Stark might be seeing, the river peeling to the city at speeds that didn't look real. The helicopter took off, shaking and quivering but off the ground. She hadn't brought anything. In her rush, she realized that she had left everything behind. It was just going to be her and her knowledge.

"What will be I looking for Doc?" Tony's voice came strong in her ears. He was already almost where the dot on his screen was pulsating.

"Don't touch him until I say so. Look for head or neck trauma. That was a long fall." She responded as the city came through the windows of her view at a much slower pace.

"His heart rate is high. Bad? Good? Mediocre?" The questions were rapid fire. He pulled up the basic monitors on the suit. He was rounding the building now, lowering at the same time.

It was very high. She swallowed. "I don't know what they gave him. Call an ambulance. I can only do so much without any supplies."

"It's already on its way. There was one in the area."

"Thank God for that."

The red digital dot turned into a red smudge on the ground. Peter was laying on the concrete of an alley on his stomach, trash cans spread out around him. Tony's breathing heightened in her ears. He looked like a kid's toy, left and forgotten, limbs going every direction. She leaned closer to the screen as Tony hovered to the ground.

Spider-Man wasn't moving. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. The phone was shaking in her hands. There wasn't any clear trauma to his cranium or neck. His head was turned to one side but not too far. He didn't move as Tony landed.

"He's not bleeding, gently turn him over onto his side. Support his head. He could be choking."

"Hey kid, you there? Kid?" Tony asked as she saw his hands reach out for the boy in the suit. Tony cupped his head gently as he twisted the numb body over.

The reactions from Peter were minimal, fingers curling, a foot kicking out a little as he was pulled on his side. The white eyes of the suit were closed.

"I can't take off the mask, there are witnesses already." Tony muttered as he brushed Peter's cheek. "Come on, stay with us."

The eyes flickered for a second. It could have been a glitch. It could be him reacting to his voice. It could be him struggling.

"Is he breathing?"

Tony paused, longer than she liked. "Yes."

"That's the most important thing we can keep him doing right now. We can fix everything else." She hoped that wasn't a lie.

"You're here. I'm coming up to get you. He'll be okay?" Tony said.

She had barely noticed the trip had come to an end. "Coming up to get me?"

"You can't repel out of a helicopter can you?"

"No."

"Get ready then. No arguments. FRIDAY close transmission to E77." The screen went dead in her hands. She looked around at the faces around her. They were solemn. It felt strange that five minutes before she had been in her office. Snatching the first-aid kit off the wall, she unhooked her seat belt and they ushered her towards the door of the flying helicopter.

Later she would worry about what she was doing. Later she would have a very strong drink about all of this. Now, as the door open, hot air almost blinding her, it was all about laughing kid on the phone who went on a date that wasn't a date.

The Iron Man suit was impressive in action as it hovered five feet under the craft. Everything in the suit flexed and adjusted to the wild air around the helicopter. He had his hands open wide like it was going to be that simple. Her eyes focused past him. They saw the drop. The city looked sharp. This was crazy. Her knuckles tightened on the edge of safety.

"Come on Doctor Crow, you've got to jump. I'll catch you," Tony said over the speaker in his suit.

Oh god.

"Do it now!" He shouted.

So she did it. Thinking about it wasn't going to help. She tensed and stepped off the edge.

Time paused for a breath.

The feeling of only air was terrifying. Nothing underneath her, nothing above her, weightlessness. She left her heart on the helicopter. The machine was already far above her.

Tony must have missed her. She was out of her own control as she started to spin. Her hair ripped upwards, pulling painfully. The city was still pale in the morning light but even now the edges were crisper. She waved her arms, trying to keep upright but already she was coming to the side. She was going to fall and smash into the ground next to Peter.

Heavy solid arms clamped around her and they were ripped off to the side.

"See? Easy."

The Iron Man suit held her closely. Her fingers grasped his shoulders as the wind caught in her ears, making them ring.

"I hate you," she shouted as the city grew around her.

Iron Man laughed. The thrusters roared, everything around them was a blur. The metal was hot in the heat. They swung around, the city feeling unreal until it got bigger and more into focus. He held her like a child with one hand pressing her into his chest while she kept her hands wrapped around his neck but still she felt like she was going to swing out of his grip any second.

The landing was paralyzing and she fell to the ground when his hands left her. Her knees couldn't take her weight. Everything quivered inside her for a moment and her vision mixed itself. She had been higher than the buildings and now she was on the ground on her hands and knees. She was going to throw up.

Then Peter's still frame was clear in her sight.

She didn't have time for this.

Tony helped her up and she hurried over. He was sprawled out on his side, almost fetal on the ground. It was odd to see the body so limp, useless, without his enthusiastic energy. She swallowed up something horrible swelling in her chest. The facts, that's what she needed now. He was bleeding, some scrapes from the fight or the fall. His mask didn't show any signs of trauma.

"Kid?" She asked and looked up, "Tony, how far is that ambulance?"

"A minute or so." He was scanning the area.

"Block us." And with that, she peeled off the mask. Iron Man stood between them and the growing crowd at the end of the alley.

Peter's face was pale and his lips were almost purple. She pried open his mouth. He wasn't choking on his own tongue. She closed her eyes and felt his pulse. It was rapid and wild against her fingers. He was clammy to the touch. If it was a tranquillizer, they needed to get an idea of what it was and then try to reverse it immediately. His fragile body could only take so much.

She shook him and his eyes flickered. He wasn't completely out. His pupils were dilated as they flashed open so he was just in a stupor. He focused for a second, she could see it, and he started to say something before he lost himself to the drug again.

He was limp and her hands were wet in his blood from the scrapes from his fall. No. This couldn't be happening.

The ambulance had arrived somehow without her noticing and she pulled the mask back on.

"Meet us at the hospital," she told Iron Man as the medic wheeled out a gurney. She felt wild, the panic starting to get to her again.

"I wi-" Tony's response was cut off. An explosion shook the alley as a building went up in flames just a few blocks away.

"You handle him, I'll handle this." His tone was serious as he blasted off towards the fire. What was happening?

She barely looked at the EMT as she shouted instructions at him on how to lift Peter onto the gurney. Spider-Man's head wobbled back and forth until she supported it. They ushered him out of the alley and into the clean controlled inside of the ambulance.

The doors slid shut and locked. Silence took over.

"Okay, we need to get him oxygen now. Get a blood sample. If it gets much worse, we'll need to give him a dose of naloxone, I'm guessing the tranquillizer is opioid based," She ordered as she pressed the button loosening the suit to set up the EKG.

The ambulance pulled away and she stumbled back. Fresh bruises were all over his chest, barely leaving any skin untouched. The fall had been worst than she thought. She prayed there were no broken ribs. Peter mumbled something weakly as she peeled the mask half off his face. Her fingers were shaking.

"Where is that god damn oxygen?" She snapped and turned around to see the gun in her face.

The weapon was almost silver in the white light and for a moment, she couldn't believe that it was there. The shock of seeing the gun and everything that it meant hurt her like a jolt of electricity. Her hands drifted up automatically, all words dying in her throat.

Peter groaned and she felt herself stumbling back, putting herself between the gun and the boy.

The EMT braced himself further against the wall and leveled to gun evenly at her. Then she saw the tears in his eyes and he pulled the mask from his face.

"No sudden moves Catherine," Andy said, "please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend K read this chapter a while ago and immediately texted me: "IT'S A TWISTY TWIST!"
> 
> Thank you for the outpour of support last week. It was astounding. Thank you.
> 
> I have a lot that could say about this chapter but I need to keep quiet this week. One thing I will say is that I am proud of this one.
> 
> So. Let me know your thoughts instead. What did you think? Did I succeed in a "twisty twist"? What do you think is going to happen next week?
> 
> Thank you for reading as always -Quin


	11. In Which A Dose of Medicine Is Administered

Andy was holding her at gunpoint over the body of Peter Parker.

"What are you doing Andy?" Catherine heard herself softly asking as the ambulance drove away from all forms of help. He didn't move at her question.

"I need the money," he said shakily, "I've got to take care of my mom."

She closed her eyes for a moment and her hands fell to her side. His mother's medical bills. All his stress. The late nights. She'd been an idiot. Peter moved behind her, a whimper filling the space.

Catherine felt tears prick her eyes but she kept her voice steady. "Let me help him. We can figure this out but I need to help him first."

They went over a bump and slowed. Andy's attention didn't waver from her.

"He won't overdose. The doctors used my measurements and his weight. It won't kill him."

She had to sit against the gurney then. Acid crept up her throat and she forced herself to breath. He didn't stop her but continued to hold the gun. Her fingers tightened against the edge of the bed. Nothing was coming to mind. She felt empty, mentally scooped out after everything that had happened.

"Here is how things are going to go." He stopped, swallowed and then repeated himself. "Here is how it's going to go. You're going to do what I say and then eventually you'll tell them what you know about Tony, about the Avengers, about everything. I've made them promise not to hurt you if you do that."

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. How could this happen? The sirens cut out and she could tell that they were driving at a normal pace. The driver was in on it too.

She closed her eyes hard, wanting it all to go away. Failure. Somehow she had missed everything and now they were both in danger. Andy was still pointing the gun at her when she opened them.

She couldn't hurt him, she knew it. Worse, he knew it. She didn't hurt people, she fixed them. The sounds of the road filled the inside.

"This is from them. I need you to do everything on the list." He pulled a typed piece of paper out of his pocket and she took it from him emptily.

It was clearly doctor's instructions. They wanted her to send him completely under. The note was simple. Put him on general anesthesia, put in the ventilator, restrain for the car ride and then monitor for two to three hours. Everything was prepped and ready to go, tucked into the compartment to her left. Catherine felt cold like she was being packed into ice.

Peter was still behind her, limp and shaking with every bump that the ambulance took. His half pulled up mask showed the slack face, every muscle flattened. Sometimes his lips would start to say words before forgetting themselves. The paper curled forward in her hands. Peter had a date soon. His aunt was always chronically smiling. Tony tended too look to the left when he realized he cared for the boy. He was too self conscious to say it out loud.

Her fingers crunched the paper.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" She said, the venom was injected in her now, hot and angry. "Get this piece of shit out of my face."

Andy gripped the gun tighter, his knuckles going white. "Catherine…"

"You need money? Why didn't you ask me? Or Tony? You know normal people get a second job. They don't go around kidnapping people for profit."

She didn't realize she had stood up until the barrel of the gun was an inch away from her chest. Her heart was going crazy. She swallowed. How dare he do this to something that was good in her life.

He lifted the gun a little higher, aiming somewhere between her throat and her face. "I asked Tony for a raise. He told me that he wasn't doing charity. Please it's for my mother, every piece of information you can give lowers our debt."

"This is bullshit." She spat. "You can't do this. You can't do this to the kid."

Something changed in Andy's face. The grief changed and morphed into something harder, something that she had only seen a few times. The gun jerked up to aim at her forehead causing her to blink. Part of her wanted to duck but her anger kept her stiff.

"You know what is real bullshit?" He snapped, "Having my whole life drown because my mother had a stroke and finding out no one cares."

"I would have helped you."

"And you still can."

The ambulance went over a bump. They both stumbled. She half fell onto Spider-Man. He was burning up now. Even with whatever the "correct dose" had been, he undoubtedly needed medical care. She looked down at Peter. She needed to be paying attention to him, not this idiot in front of her.

Andy was back on his feet and had taken aim again before she could drag her attention back to him.

She looked him in the eyes. "I can't do this Andy. I can't do this for you. I can't do this to him."

"You will and you'll listen to me too." He pushed the gun forward until it almost touched her head. "Now take off his mask. I've wanted to see who this guy is for a long time."

The power of what he was doing was finally getting to him, she realized. It filled him up, making him stronger, more powerful than she could ignore. The Andy she had known had disappeared into violence.

She balled up her fist forcing herself to ignore the gun's muzzle. "I won't do that."

Andy smiled. A sick little thing that filled his entire face. "Are you sure about that?"

Then the gun moved slowly.

Her stomach dropped and she held onto the side of the bed. He knew her too well. She should have never let anyone this close to her. She should have never gotten attached. All the little inches she had given the last couple months, it was all coming back to haunt her. The gun moved and it took a new aim directly at Peter's unconscious head.

"Take of the mask and do what the note says, Catherine." The tone was different. It was cold and hard. "Getting only you to your destination will be enough to pay of my mother's debt. He's the bonus."

"You wouldn't do this. He's just a kid."

"Stop telling me what I can't do. Now take it off." He shouted and the gun clicked. The yell rung in her ears. He was serious.

Her fingers shook as she leaned over and hooked them under the rim of the mask. It was damp with sweat. The gun wasn't moving. She held her breath and then pulled it off. Peter's face was going pale in the light, a bruise on his cheekbone already forming. Brown hair was plastered to his forehead, the rest sticking up at weird angles. He was young, so incredibly young in the ambulance's light. His eyes opened for a second, pain rippling across his expression and then he stilled again.

She saw the shock soften Andy and then it was gone. He said nothing. He didn't need to. It didn't change anything.

"I need to finish setting up the EKG and give him a dose of medicine to stabilize him. Just to keep his heart moving at least," she said, keeping her voice even. "Okay?"

He nodded his head, the gun still training on Peter's head. "Don't try to trick me."

She nodded. "I just want to keep him alive. See him going purple? He's suffocating."

It was true, although an expanded truth, it would take a longer time to kill him than a normal person. He was still breathing which was the only reason she wasn't doing CPR. If the doctors had access to his weight, then the dosage would be almost accurate. What they would have gotten wrong was how this boy was all muscle, leaving the drug nowhere else but his bloodstream.

She restricted her movements as she finished attaching the heart monitor. The nodes attached simply to his skin but what it told her took her breath away.

His heart had stopped fighting. Now it was almost lax in his chest, slower than it ever should be for someone at his age. Her hand stilled on the last node as she stared at the numbers. Peter's fingers drifted up to where she was, delayed and groggy. It was probably just instinct to the odd sensation of the plastic suction. He touched the wires and her hand before coming to rest across his chest.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. _I'm here_, she wanted to say.

Andy watched her every move.

This was incredibly dangerous for Peter either way. She pressed the hand on his chest and turned to address Andy.

"Now, I'm going to administer a shot, like I said I was going to." Her throat was dry and she waited for him to allow her. He didn't do anything. It felt odd, almost out of body as she went to the cabinet and pulled out the medicine and the syringe. The procedure was so simple but she couldn't do it. Fear never got to her. It was choking her now.

Reverting back to her classes, she ran through the list, swabbing his shoulder, loading the syringe, adjusting the angle of the needle and plunging it in.

"I'm so sorry Peter," She muttered. He flinched with the pain. His heartbeat fluttered upwards almost immediately.

Her head felt like it was the one spinning.

"Do the next thing Catherine."

She squinted up at him. "How could you do this?"

"Just do the next step on the list." There was a tremor in his voice. Or maybe she had just imagined it.

The ambulance went over another bump. Already the sounds of NYC faded completely. They were in a tunnel. This was getting even worse. They were leaving the city.

"I need to be where you are." She got up and they awkwardly switched places, brushing closer than either one wanted. She remembered how on Friday nights, he used to teach her to dance in her apartment. They would push her furniture to the edges of the room. They would turn down the lights. They would laugh. After all that time in LA, she should have learned but she'd always had two left feet. They were always trying to close the distance then.

Andy took aim at her again, pushing himself against the gurney, back to Spider-Man. The silence pressed against both of them.

She started to pull a ventilator out and then it slipped from her hands. The tube clattered on the floor and they both flinched. It rolled between Andy's feet. He frowned before kicking it back at her. It rattled before stopping. Suspicion started growing on her face.

She took one look at Peter behind him and then she let go of her control. The fear swallowed her. It crushed her in one easy move. She was alone in this situation. She wasn't a hero. She didn't know how to defend them. All she knew was how to put in an IV and stop someone from bleeding out on the floor. For the moment, everything was up to her and she wasn't up for it. She wasn't strong enough.

Catherine put a hand out to the back wall to support herself. She was drowning. There wasn't enough oxygen. Logically there was but she wasn't getting it. Breathlessly she stared at him. "Can you put that down please? I can't breath. You know you don't need it."

He stayed the same. A tear broke down her cheek followed by another one. That got through to him. The bravos cracked, the gun faltered, she sucked in a breath. She should be embarrassed. She knew that.

"No." The gun jerked up again and he stiffened. "That's a lie. You were an EMT for god's sake."

"Andy…"

"Stalling won't work. He can't track the suit or you. The ambulance is solid, no communications can come in or out. Ten other ambulances with the same license plates are driving around the city. He won't find you." His voice was sharpening again.

She leaned back against the far wall, getting herself as far away from the gun as she could. Everything depended on that weapon. Any moment it could go off and they would all be lost. Parts of the ambulance looked like they were swimming now.

"I've given up Andy, can't you tell? I'm doing what the sheet says." She raised her hand. "Look at my fingers."

She quivered like a drunk. Quickly, she wiped her face again and left her hands by her side.

"I hope someday you can understand," he said softly, "My mom is my world. I would do anything for her."

Catherine hoped that someday he would understand.

He would understand everything that was happening.

How she could do this to him.

Her heart felt like it was going to give out under the anxiety. She _was_ afraid. It was true but what she was displaying was a controlled fear. The real fear was wild under her skin and was trying to burn through her carefully placed action.

Andy was right. She was stalling.

Catherine had given Peter a shot but it wasn't to stabilize him. 10 ML of naloxone had gone straight into his shoulder, not the drug that the note wanted. The tranquilizer _was_ opioid based. It had been noted in case of an emergency.

What the note wanted would have drowned Peter's consciousness completely, giving him at least an hour of dreamless darkness.

What she had given him was to wake him up and it worked.

Peter was rubbing his head on the gurney now, eyes rolling around the room and trying to figure out what was happening.

"I need you to stay still," she told Peter firmly. "Until we can figure this all out."

Andy's face curdled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Peter's face turn to meet hers.

"Let me just breath for a second. Swinging that gun around isn't helping me, Andy. Please." She swallowed in air and raised her hands again. She didn't dare look at Peter directly.

Everything danced on a tightrope and she felt like they were wildly flying off and there was no one to catch them.

"My mom's going to loose her house." A touch of desperation was coming into his voice. "Both our savings are spent. I was supposed to go to the Bahamas this Christmas. I can barely feed my dog."

She turned towards to cabinet and grasped the edges. It was solid and cold. She took a breath. Something rustled behind her. Her hand went for another clear tube that she was never going to put down Peter's throat.

"Is it worth it?" She asked and immediately hated herself for asking it. He needed to keep his attention on her and she needed to know the answer. She turned back to face the gun. It was still there. Her fingers tightened hard around the plastic. She drove herself to look up and into Andy's eyes. The emotions stirred around viciously inside him. She wanted to break down, to help him through this, even after everything.

Then she remembered the limp teen that she had found on the pavement today and knew that it could never happen.

The kid was lightly crouching on the gurney now, his mouth half open as he situated himself. The purple bruises looked blue in the light.

"Yes. It's worth it," Andy said.

She tried to memorize his face then without the gun, trying to find the man in it she thought she knew.

She couldn't.

Peter was on his toes now.

Catherine looked at the man in front of her. "It's never worth it."

It happened quickly then.

Spider-Man sprung forward off the bed, webs spinning in front of him, catching Andy's arms and pulling him back as he came forward in one smooth motion. Instinctively, she jumped to help or to hinder, she couldn't tell.

The gun went off, the acrid smell filling the car. She saw Andy's eyes go wide with surprise before she felt herself falling backwards towards the cabinets as if she had been shoved. Peter was yelling at him or maybe it was at her yelling. She couldn't tell. The words becoming increasingly fuzzy and indistinct.

All she could concentrate on was the pain. The pain that laced across the back of her skull so sharply that it took her breath away.

And then there was only blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't talk too much. I can say this: this scene was so hard to write for so many reasons.
> 
> I think it took me about a week to get this feeling right. I built Andy to tear him down but I still didn't want to do it. There is Catherine's reaction to everything. Then there is the medical aspect to all of this. I think I spent about three hours researching tranquilizers and how to handle unconscious patients (honestly I still probably got it wrong). Finally, there is the end.
> 
> On a lighter note, I rewatched Far From Home today and couldn't stop thinking about how I tranquilized Peter the whole time.
> 
> Thank you for all the support. You all have been amazing.
> 
> Let me know what you think! How do you feel about Andy? I'm still mixed on it myself. Thank you for reading as always. -Quin


	12. In Which We Come To An Understanding

"Ms. Catherine."

She felt slow against the hands.

"Ms Catherine."

She crumpled her face. Could someone please just stop shouting her god damn name and let her sleep? The darkness was starting to fade from her mind and she didn't want it to go. It drew back like a sludge, pulling against every limb painfully as it retreated. Sirens were going off again in the distance and the noise ground against her ears.

"Catherine!" Another shake. There were hands on her face frantically pinching.

She felt cold. Her shirt was wet.

"Okay…I'm gonna pick you up now. You know, the floor isn't too comfy, right?" Something got under her knees and her back. The pressure on her spine disappeared and her hand fell down towards the ground. She wanted to forget it all. Her head turned inward towards what felt warmer. Let her go back under, she asked nothing, the world had been entirely too unpleasant lately.

"I don't know what to do. What do I do?" Peter whispered. The question pulled on her, grasping her by the arm and dragging her out. The urgency in the sound was a magnet. Peter didn't know what to do. Maybe she could help. She opened her eyes to the whiteness of the ceiling. She was being laid down on a the gurney, limbs folding awkwardly against the surface. It creaked under her weight.

"…Peter?"

"Catherine!" The kid's face lit up in a mix of happiness and panic. The mask was still off. There was a jerk in all his movements, like he couldn't quite stop them in time. Probably an aftereffect from the naloxone.

The naloxone. The tranquilizer. The fight.

"Andy?" She thought that it was going to come out her throat urgently but instead it was a choke. She tried to turn, eyes straining to look around on the gurney but Peter stopped her. Everything was heavy and sluggish.

He said quickly, "He's a little tied up outside but-"

"Oh my god. You're shot." She scanned down him to find the blood on his stomach. The red splotch was large and shimmered in the light as he breathed. She jerked towards it, trying to find the entry wound. At some point, he had pulled the suit back up. The fabric was smooth and unblemished. Andy must have shot him before he put the shirt on.

He took her hands in his and pushed her gently back onto the gurney.

"Actually you are," he said and an edge of panic came into his tone, "Please, there is so much blood, Ms. Catherine. What do we do?"

It was as if he pushed a button.

The pain flooded her mind and she pressed against the bed, arching upwards as her hand squeezed around her arm. The skin was covered in blood, hot and slick between her fingers. The pain sent sparks up and now her spine, making her feel like she was burning up from the inside. She felt a string of words come out of her mouth in combinations that were probably new to Peter's ears. He was probably horrified.

Instead, he looked helpless. "Mr. Stark is on his way. An ambulance is coming too but, but-"

"Get a towel." She took a deep breath, pressing back the pain.

"A towel?" The shake was constant in his voice and he turned, opening every drawers he could find. Things clattered to the ground. She took a weak breath and lifted her arm towards her face. The bullet had gone into her underarm, the sickly hole dripped and curled blood down to her shoulder. She touched the opposite side and felt for the exit hole. She hiss as she located it. It was a good thing but it was blindingly painful.

Her head rolled against the bed and her arm went limp again. She tried to concentrate on breathing, pushing the air in and out. The pain was steamrolling her mind, pressing everything into black and white.

"Are these good?" In Peter's hands were surgery towels. "Is eight enough?"

She felt the laugh in her chest and it oozed out in coughs. All this medical supplies around her and there was nothing that Peter could do. He didn't understand. His face contorted as he hurried over. How things had been reversed. Silently, he put two of them under her head as a pillow.

"I'm going to be okay Peter," she said and the words slurred in her cheeks as he adjusted her head. "It didn't hit a major artery."

"But the blood-"

"It's not spurting out."

"But-"

The pain and a headache was increasing again. She had a major concussion. She tried to curl her good hand into a fist. It didn't make it. She was going to loose consciousness again.

"It's going to be okay." Each word sucked her energy. "Top right drawer to the left are the tourniquets. Tie one right under my shoulder. Tight."

He turned away. Good. He didn't need to see her go again.

"Top left drawer?"

"Top right." Her eyes were closing now by themselves. She saw that he couldn't reach it. Peter jumped onto the ceiling, sticking with his feet and pulled a cabinet open too hard. Boxes of gloves and blankets fell all over the gurney.

"Sorry, Ms Catherine!"

She didn't feel the boxes. She didn't feel much at all. Breathing took up her mind. Her muscles stretched and contracted, pushing her lungs to work. The tickle of air through her nose and mouth. A thought came to her on an eddy as she lost herself again. She had jumped out of a helicopter today. What the hell had made her think that was a good idea?

Everything came in patches then. Peter panicking again and then his worried eyes as he pulled the mask back on. The EMTs coming. They were arguing at one point, no, Tony and Spider-Man could not both fit inside the ambulance.

Her vitals were being taken. Part of her wanted to note them down but everything was too grainy for that. Tony's voice yelling at someone to do something. He didn't even sound like he knew what.

The hospital swallowed her whole, stripping her of everything familiar. Part of her mind tried to keep track of where she was in the system before finally she gave up and it all spun into nonsense.

She woke up alone in a room. It was dark and she felt idle. When was the last time that she had slept that deeply? When was the last time that she had been forced to relax? Her body was stiff and unresponsive. How long had she been asleep?

The warmth of the covers kept her in place. They had been pulled across her chest to her chin. This was a real blanket, not a thin hospital sheet. With her good arm, she pulled her fingers out to play with the edge. It was seamed nicely and the fabric was thick. It had a smell to it. A strange cologne hung to it. She noted it down to ask the staff where it had come from later. Her bad arm ached but the stinging was gone. That was a good sign. Someone knew who to do their job.

It was a private room. A couple flowers in a vase were placed on the closed windowsill. She couldn't afford a private room. Another thing she had to let go for the moment. She couldn't handle that. Her attention and worry was retracted. She couldn't handle anything more than the room around her. Even having an interest in that felt like a stretch. The hospital sounds, the talking, the rattling, the beeps and clicks, it sounded so familiar.

The clock on the wall told her it was past midnight. Everything felt cold, probably the exhaustion taking its rightful place. She was strung out and emptied. Every emotion she knew had gone through her system recently. Even thinking of Andy and the gun, it brought nothing to her except a little pang of regret.

Later. She could analyze that into the smallest pieces later.

She looked to her left at her monitor. The numbers were steady, a little higher or lower than ideal but she had been shot. An I.V. dripped. She couldn't read the sticker on it. No need to backseat drive her own medicine, she reminded herself. Thomas, as the white board stated her nurse was across from her bed, was probably doing a fine job.

Catherine pushed against the mattress, closed her eyes and sighed.

Another sigh echoed hers.

She should be afraid she thought as she rolled her head towards the sound. Whoever wanted her information still hadn't gotten it.

Honestly, she couldn't be bothered. She was simply too tired for it. Come what may at this point.

Another deep breath allowed her to pinpoint the sound. A couch was pulled into the shadow of the window, the shapes dark and indistinct. Another sigh came in that direction and she forced her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She looked at the sight for more than a minute. Then she slid back under the covers and allowed the knowledge to comfort her.

Tony and Peter were fast asleep on the couch, slumped against each other in an almost indistinguishable heap. Tony's arm was wrapped around the kid and Peter used his body as a pillow. He drooled on the billionaire, not that it mattered. They were still in the darkness. She felt something in her eyes that she didn't want to acknowledge. It was as if a spring in her was unwinding.

Peter's arms were crossed over a pillow, the gray sweatshirt sleeves rumpled up to show dark metallic bands. Tony had a briefcase next to him. Weapons weren't allowed in hospitals, the nurse in her popped in but she killed that comment quickly. Both faces were slack with exhaustion and looked like they could both use a good shower but they were here instead.

The room wasn't empty then. She had them.

It was quiet now. Something finally crumpled down in her and she felt herself finally let it go, they were looking after her now. She wasn't so alone. Catherine's eyes closed and sleep overtook her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anybody else have the "warm fuzzies"? I do...
> 
> One more chapter to go now. Thank you all for reading and commenting. The support is more than I ever dreamed. -Quin


	13. In Which We Conclude

Catherine stared at her painting on the wall.

It stared back at her.

The dog looked anatomically off. Something was wrong with its feet. The snake curled around the skull. She could have rendered a bit better. The background was too prominent. She hated everything about it. If she could she would pull it off the wall before anyone else saw it.

The gallery opening was a full but not packed. Most of them were starving students from the nearby campus looking for free food.

She didn't blame them. She'd been there herself.

Catherine didn't kid herself. She hadn't invited anyone but Peter knew about it. That's why she had pulled her one skirt from her closet and spent more than two minutes on her hair. She'd given up after the first minute of doing something with the curls, leaving it tied back as usual. She had to stay recognizable somehow.

Andy had told her that she would regret this. Unfortunately, he was right. Even his drunk words brought something bitter into the back of her throat that was hard to swallow. The attack was twenty nine days ago now. She couldn't help but keep track. Every day grated against her skin like sandpaper.

She hadn't seen Andy since.

After the hospital, she had spent a few vacation days in her apartment with the doors locked. Tony had called her in for a no nonsense meeting, one of the few she'd had with that man in her life. He told her that Andy had been arrested. He had worked willingly with the police. Apparently they had been courting him for months but it was only recently when he gave in. He was going to jail, that was for sure, but for a lot shorter period of time than had he not been such a babbler mouth.

Already, Tony assured her, as if it would assure her, Andy was halfway across the state.

The people pulling his strings were on the run now with Andy's information. There was little to worry about. Everything was going back to normal. Even Andy's mother had been taken care of, Stark having quietly paid off the debt.

The story hadn't even been important enough to break the news.

Catherine hadn't gotten back to work yet. It would take a while to burn through four years of vacation time.

Somebody came up to her painting. She slided away, sipping the cheap wine. The student squinted at it confused. He wouldn't see her as the artist but that didn't break down the anxiety. He bit a cracker in half and then moved on without a comment or a change in expression.

Some things didn't change.

She blew out a breath. Maybe Peter forgot. Maybe there was a midterm or an exam or a Saturn to paint. Maybe she could stand her trial quietly for the next hour and thirty minutes without having to mutter a word. Maybe-

"Ms. Catherine!"

The little smile she had plastered on for the first hour didn't move pass her mouth. As she turned, she felt it expand on its own. The kid pushing through the crowd. The energy bounced off him as he struggled to get to her. He had even managed to snag a shirt that only had a couple wrinkles and looked nicer than his graphic t-shirt collection.

The biggest shocker was his shoes. They were almost dress shoes. Well, they were black converse. That was close as she could imagine the him getting. The kid was trying.

His eyes were shining. "I made it! I actually made it!"

He came in for a hug before she could stop him. It was awkward and uncomfortable but thankfully she lied to herself that no one was looking.

"You…do appear to be here." She stared at the ceiling and then ended up patting his head. Who pats heads anymore? She swallowed. Despite it all, it was good to see him. It had been a few weeks.

What he said caught up with her and she looked down. "Was there a chance that you weren't going to be here?"

"Oh." His eyes went wide and he drew back. He seemed fascinated with everything but her. "No."

She stared closer at him. "No?"

"Nope."

"Really not a chance?"

"Nah. I had it all planned out to come at this time and everything."

"Let's check that, shall we?" Before he could figure out what she meant by that, she had pulled out her phone and searched "Spider-Man" on the news.

"Wait-wwait-"

"A bank robbery?" She hissed at him. Already the headlines were spreading about it even though it had happened a half an hour ago.

He pushed down her phone. "Okay. There were only like three guns."

_"Peter!"_

"Okay. Maybe ten but it's all done now and I didn't even get close to being shot." He pulled her phone from her hands, snapped it off and then hastily put it in her purse. He winced at her glare. "Can we not? Please?"

It was that look again, the kicked puppy one. The pictures of him from half an hour were getting her blood pressure to rise. She shook her head. She was growing soft and she knew it. She wasn't even working for Stark at the moment. He wasn't her responsibility but here she was getting all worked up.

Since she didn't respond, he turned to the painting and adopted the same look as everyone else had: a blank "I'm looking at art" stare that never seemed to focus. His hands passed behind his back as he squinted closer at the work.

She couldn't help but look for his webshooters. One of his wrists had a black wrap on it. She was still in danger then. The stress tightened in her chest and then he adjusted his grip. It was a watch.

Stop it, she scolded herself, it was over.

"Oh man." He stepped closer. "I like it…this sure is something."

She felt the laugh in her chest and shoved it down. "Thanks."

"It sure is something." A new voice joined from behind them. Tony Stark stood with his hands folded across his chest. He shouldn't be here. He had people to anger and tech to explode. She felt her stomach dropped further than the ground.

"Tony what are you-"

He pushed between them and squinted close at the painting. "You can paint. The values are nice here but maybe next time you'll pick a more intelligible topic? Isn't a dog and the snake little obvious? Loyalty and evil and all that shit?"

"Well, I didn't ask you." The surprise flipped into defensive anger too quickly for her to process.

He raised an eyebrow leaned over towards her. "I'm the genius, remember? You should be thanking me. I could be charging thousands."

"Take it out of my paycheck."

Despite their words, there was a flash of something in his eyes. He wanted to be here. Sure it was a very toned down version of Peter's outward exuberance but it was there under six hundred layers of pride. She shifted her weight uneasily.

The people in the building hadn't noticed Tony, yet.

He clamped his hands on both of their shoulders. "Okay. My mom always told me if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Come on, we need to talk shop."

"I'm at my own art opening." She shrugged off his hand.

"You clearly don't want to be here."

"Well, I don't."

It was true. All the people were stress inducing and adding their noncommittal judgment on top of their presence only made things worse. Then there was what he wanted to talk about. It could be about Andy but she doubted it. It could only be something worse than that.

"Then it's decided. Kid, come on, I'll need backup."

Stark turned to leave. Someone was taking a photo of him. It was time that he left before the crowded room further noticed the billionaire. The excitement of having Iron Man in the room rippled outward as people poked and pointed.

"Where are we going?" She followed him. He was pulling Peter along who had happened to notice one of the more avant garde pieces, a nude riding a pink flamingo, hair streaming in the wind. His eyes were wide.

"Don't care." He snapped his fingers. "Peter, I know hormones are complicated but attention here please. Pick a place."

He stuttered. "Can we go to the pizza place down the street?"

"Who doesn't like baked bread with too many calories on top? Why not."

* * *

They bought Peter a whole cheese pizza to himself. It was jumbo size. It didn't daunt him.

They sat at a worn booth in the corner of the small pizza parlor, Peter sitting in between them. Fortunately, it just so happened that the owner had decided to close early and kicked all the other customers out. Stark dropping a wad of cash on the counter had nothing to do it.

Neither Tony or Catherine had decided to get food. She was too tense and Tony referred to Pepper's no gluten diet that she was sure he wasn't following.

Tony stared at her seriously. She took a drink of her water. He waited for her to start the conversation. It was funny, two people could play this game. She started folding her napkin over and over on the table, pressing it into the smallest square possible. The smell of grease hung heavy in the air.

Peter sandwiched two pieces of pizza together before looking up. "So what are we talking about?"

Tony cocked his head. "What are we here to talk about Catherine?"

"No idea," she said, "Peter, do you have anything you want to announce to the group?"

With the two pieces thoroughly stuffed in his mouth, he froze and wildly shook his head. Already a quarter of the pizza was gone. How it had fit into Peter's stomach, only teenage boys could explain.

"Ah. Insightful. Catherine, it's your turn to share."

It clicked in her head. This was about that. The email that she had gotten. The one that she had read over and over again.

"You've hacked my email, haven't you?" She pushed the napkin square in between them and let go. It sprung open. "I don't want Peter in this conversation. This is emotional blackmail."

"It is."

Peter's face screwed up and he made some muffled sounds around the bread that sounded both indignant and confused.

"Eat your pizza and let the adults talk. You're doing great kid. If you choke, we've got a doctor on hand," Tony said.

"Nurse practitioner."

"Same thing." Before she could argue with that, he pushed on the edge of the table and leaned across it, pointing a finger at her. "Listen to this underoos. Catherine has an email in her inbox that I've been waiting for her to respond to. If she says yes, it will significantly piss off the Avengers and by which I mean me."

There was sign across the pizzeria. It showed a kid smashing pizza into his mouth, euphoria painted on his face and the curved words scrawling: _Have one more piece!_

"You are going to make me say it. Come on, pull off the bandaid yourself." Tony asked.

She smiled softly, directing herself to think about the email. It had been sent to her in the middle of her third night awake in her apartment. She had started laughing at it and then the sound died in her throat. The realization dawned on her. It couldn't be a joke. It was an option. A real option. The only reason she hadn't sent a response yet was because she was waiting for after the opening, after she saw Peter, so it would be easier to decide.

Still, it didn't matter now. Stark had her pinned, annoyingly.

"I'm no hero, Peter." She turned to him. He'd figured it out by the horror that was on his face. "You'll learn this. There is a difference between normal people and you. It's better for you if I just disappear from New York. Start over with someone new."

"Stop being so cryptic and selfless, Catherine. Fury is trying to steal her." Tony stole a piece of pizza from Peter and ripped off a piece.

Peter waved his hands between the two of them, his mouth still full. It was hard to tell if it was because of the pizza theft or the words.

It was a compliment, she had decided. Fury assured her that she'd have a team and the promise of a safe but eventful life with a group of like-minded people. Essentially, if she could take care of "the whiny and infuriating Tony", then she deserved something better.

The temptation was strong. She knew that every inch of her old office was going to remind her of Andy. Even looking at Peter, her mind still flung itself irrationally back to that night. His face had been so pale and weak. Her helplessness still gave her the shakes on occasion.

Tony pushed back against the seat back. "Sometimes I just really hate that man."

He took another bite and chewed it angrily.

"You're quitting?" Peter had finally gotten the pizza down. He was worried, really worried. She decided not to look at him. It was her decision and just because now Peter was in the room didn't make it any less her choice.

"You would get someone else. I'm sure Stark won't leave everyone high and dry."

Stark moved uncomfortably in his seat. "Right now, we have Joseph."

"Do you like Joseph?"

"Terrible. Absolutely terrible. He just does his job and doesn't yell at me."

"A pity." She leaned over and took a piece of the warm pizza. If Peter didn't look betrayed enough, the look tripled. She took a bite and looked smug at Tony. The pizza was good in a disgusting way. The cheese was still liquid and her heart was already seizing with the fat content.

Something else was worming its way into her. Tony wouldn't have come himself he didn't care. Pepper and her assistants had been her main point of contact for HR for the last four years. Sure, she worked with Tony, but the "boring details" were hashed out with other people.

"Here are some cons to my current job," she talked around the pizza just to annoy him. "My coworker and ex kidnapped me."

His face twitched. "Occupational hazard. The higher you fly, the more people will want to pull you down. Or something like that."

"I was shot recently. I think that might make me want a career change."

He shrugged. "I've been shot so many times that I can't even count. It didn't change my mind."

"I know. I dressed most of them." There was a grin tugging on her face. "How about the fact that my boss drags me into active war zones?"

"Helps keep up a healthy sense of mortality."

Peter was smart to keep quiet. He sandwiched two pieces together again and started in on it.

"My identity has been compromised. I sleep with a twelve inch serrated knife by my bed." This was true. Whatever Stark's idea of "security" was, she never saw it so the kitchen knife stayed by her pillow.

He didn't blink. "Well, that's unnecessary but I've heard about this great place downtown, 20 minute commute to work, high end security, two bedrooms, one bath and it's being held just for you."

"I couldn't afford that place. My pay is terrible."

"I believe it just doubled."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Tripled." He corrected himself.

"You'll start getting your flu shot."

"Off the table."

Peter interrupted, "You haven't gotten your flu shot?"

She took another bite out of his pizza. "You tell him. He claims that he is a genius but doesn't that seem like a dumb thing to do?"

"No," Stark scolded him. "You are here for emotional guilt and backup, remember pipsqueak? Don't turn him against me doc."

"I dunno about that Mr. Stark that's-" He started and then changed his words as Tony's glare cut through him. "…It's a choice someone could make."

"Right."

She watched a tourist come up to the door and try it. It was still locked and he looked confused at the three of them inside. She took another bite and he gave up, dropping back into the stream of the night life.

"We should even out your list. What's a pro of your current occupation?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You tell me."

Tony was sweating in this conversation. Something that she was coming to thoroughly enjoy. He stuttered and picked up the napkin she had been playing with.

"Well..." He didn't know half of what she did or even what her salary used to be. She tented her fingers on the table and smiled knowingly at him. She'd wait. There was nothing else to do.

Peter finished his slice and wiped his mouth. "How much longer do you think it's going to take him to catch on?"

"Hmm…?" She asked and pulled the third to last of pizza from his box.

"I mean, I kinda know you now Ms. Catherine. I think I do."

"Sure." Something warm was in her chest. It could have been an emotion or it could have been heartburn. The jury was still out on that one.

"If you were going to quit, you would have just said it and been done with it man."

It dawned on Tony's face all at once. First it was the clicking of the two pieces in his mind, then shock and it settled into pure annoyance. He tore the napkin and threw at them both. The pieces fluttered down on the table and she picked off the paper on her cheese before she finished off the slice.

"Thanks for the raise." She smiled unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

He stood up in a jerk. "I want you back in the office tomorrow. I'm firing Joseph."

"Poor guy. Probably never stood a chance." She answered smoothly.

"I bought this. I'm keeping it." Tony grabbed rest of the box of pizza, snapped it shut and then headed straight out the door without looking back. The glass slammed but didn't break. The bell made an attempt at ringing and then gave up entirely. The restaurant was still. Peter looked at her and they broke out into laughter. She drank down half her water before she was able to stop the fit.

"So you'll stay?"

"Yeah. I'll stay kid. Now tell me about the movie date. How did it go with MJ?"

Peter's eyes lit up and he started talking but she was only half listening.

She hadn't been sure on her decision before.

For the last few nights, the offer had hung above her head. A chance to start over, to ignore every mistake that she had made at Stark Industries. Going back to the office was going to be hard. Keeping up with the shambles of the Avengers was going to be even harder. None of the superheroes made it easy for her but she had never wanted a cushy life.

It had come down to a feeling. A feeling that she had finally confirmed when Peter asked that last question. An annoying thing that couldn't be qualified or quantified. It wasn't just a job anymore. As much as she would deny it, her life was wrapped in life of Tony, Natasha, Steve and now Peter. They needed her to keep stitching them back together as they fought the good fight and maybe, she needed them too.

She was part of something, a piece that couldn't be replaced.

Peter kept talking and she smiled at him.

Simply put, as much as she hated it, she was part of the team.

"Then we ended up going out for ice cream and we talked the cultural implications of the last scene. It was great."

"It sounds like it went great."

"So…what should I do now?"

She thought about it and then started started advising her new friend.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends.
> 
> Thank you so much for making it here. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did. I'm astounded that my little idea that I thought nobody would like has gotten so much love. A lot of fan fiction revolves around shipping and romantic relationships. This story doesn't do that and never promises that…and you are here anyways. I could get very sentimental here but just like Catherine, I won't. I'll leave it with a simple thank you.
> 
> So thank you, sincerely.
> 
> It has been a pleasure writing Catherine and the crew.
> 
> And I'm not quite done yet.
> 
> As of posting this, I finished writing In Stitches a month and a half ago. I'm proud to announce that I've spent the time in between then and now writing the sequel In Pieces. As of five days ago, I finished the first draft…all 19ish chapters of it. Surprise! It picks up directly after this and the blurb goes as follows:
> 
> "The Avengers’ nurse barely keeps her superheros in one piece. Add one distressed aunt and Tony’s engagement party. What could get worse? She should have never asked that question."
> 
> Now, if you want to find it, you can find it in my profile or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278105/chapters/50664590. The first chapter was posted along side this one. No pressure but it's certainly a fun one. I've done a little "twist" with it and well, Catherine gets to do her job.
> 
> Thank you for enjoying this adventure with me. In Stitches has been such a love of mine and I'm happy to share it with you. Let me know what you think! Did you enjoy it? What was your favorite part?
> 
> Thank you as always for reading. -Quin


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